It Happened One Christmas GAMM Partridge Family Cr
by Tabitha12
Summary: Summary: One ghost, three Muirs, one housekeeper, one dog, six Partridges, not in a MonkeyPuzzle Tree, but stranded at Gull Cottage over Christmas. A GAMMPartridge Family Crossover.
1. Chapter 1

_**Title: It Happened One Christmas**_

_**Author: Mary**_

_**Rating: PG**_

_**Summary: One ghost, three Muirs, One housekeeper, one dog, six Partridges, not in a Monkey-Puzzle Tree, but stranded at Gull Cottage over Christmas. A Ghost and Mrs. Muir/Partridge Family Crossover.**_

_**Disclaimer: The characters from 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir' belong to 20th Century Fox and David Gerber productions. The Characters from the Partridge Family belong to Columbia Pictures, Bernard Slade, and producers Bob Clover, Paul Junger Witt, Mel Swope, William S. Bickley, and Michael Warren. No infringement is intended, no profit made, and they will be returned unharmed from whence they came. My story is for enjoyment only. Any brand names mentioned are used in context of the story and no infringement or endorsement intended. Any real people mentioned in this story are there in name only and make no personal appearance.**_

**_All other characters, plots, story lines and development of GAMM/Partridge Family characters belong to the author and may not be used or changed without express written permission. My heartfelt thanks to Susan G and Amanda K for volunteering to edit, beta read, listen to me, and encourage me during the writing of this story, Kathy for helping with some research I needed, and to Susan G for more research and mommy help and for giving me the starting seed to the story to begin with. Special thanks to Amanda, again, for helping me figure out how to re-write this story after FF Net enforced the 'no song lyrics rule.' If anyone wants the REAL version, let me know._**

**_Credits: other to Joseph Addison for Carolyn's music quote and P.L. Travers for Mary Poppins_**

_**Mary **_

**It Happened One Christmas**

**_December 22, 1970 – Tuesday Night_**

Shirley Partridge clutched the steering wheel of the family's psychedelic school bus tightly, and peered out the front window, where she could barely distinguish the road in front of her through the falling snow, and cursed silently to herself. _What a way to end a concert tour!_ she thought as she fought to keep the bus on the road. _Miles from nowhere, and at this point, I don't know how we are ever going to make it to Mom and Dad's. _The bus lurched again, and she could feel the rear wheels of the vehicle veer sideways a good two feet before she could straighten them.

"Sorry, guys." Shirley apologized to her children, gripping the wheel still tighter as she fought to keep the bus on the road. "If this keeps up, we may have to try and find a hotel or something, and wait for this storm to blow over. I hate spending the money, but we may not have a choice."

Keith, her eldest son, yawned from his seat and focused his hazel eyes on his mother. "Want me to take over for a while, Mom?"

"Not hardly, young man. You only stopped driving an hour-and-a-half ago — after a six-hour stint! You're supposed to be asleep."

"I'm too tired to sleep." He yawned again.

"I'd never have guessed." Shirley grimaced as the bus made another violent lurch.

"How much further do you think we have to go, Mom?" Laurie, Shirley's eldest daughter asked.

Shirley grinned in spite of herself. "You almost sound like you were eight again!" she laughed. "_Are we there yet?_ That was always your favorite question whenever we went somewhere — it didn't matter if we were driving two miles or two-hundred."

"Blast from the past!" Laurie smiled.

"Mom?" Another voice came from the passenger seats.

"Yes, Danny?" His mother answered, gritting her teeth.

"Are you still mad?"

Shirley Partridge bit her lower lip as she continued to fight for control of the vehicle "Mad about what?"

"Uhm . . ." Her ten-year-old continued. "About Reuben and I boo . . ."

"Reuben and me."

"_Reuben and me, _booking this concert tour?"

"I haven't decided."

"Gee, Mom . . ." Danny Partridge screwed up his freckled face. "The money was really good, and the gigs were easy, only one show per . . ."

"One very LONGshow, Danny."

"One show per night, and the star dressing rooms in every city . . ."

"Right, Danny," Shirley agreed. "EVERY city. All ten of them . . . like Amherst, Boston, Augusta, Pripet, and what was that last city? I can't keep then all straight . . . Keystone? And I don't call one large room with modesty screens really great accommodations, by the way. Now here we are, in Maine, thirty-five hundred miles from home! Just wait until I get a hold of Reuben! Darn him, anyway! Next time he books one of these tours, he makes the whole trip with us. That IS what managers do! No leaving mid-trip just because he wants to avoid the snow!"

"We're really not thirty-five-hundred miles away from home, exactly." Laurie jumped back into the conversation. "It's only five-hundred miles to Philly, where Grandma Amanda and Grandpa Fred live, and we can take a real break there until after Christmas, just like we planned, and you know Reuben had to make that connecting flight to Arizona to be with his mother for Christmas."

"Yeah," Keith spoke up again. "Cheer up, Mom. We've finished touring for the year, and that's saying something, considering eight months ago we weren't even a group!"

Shirley Partridge smiled. It HAD been an interesting eight months! Who indeed would have thought that they would be a musical group with a song hitting top-forty and a best-selling album under their belts in such a short time? She shook her head in wonder.

"I'm still not sure how I ever let you talk me into this. We're barely going to get to Philadelphia in time for Christmas, and the roads are getting worse and worse. It's a good thing all of our presents to each other and Mom and Dad are already bought and wrapped and shipped to Philly."

"Aww, Mom," Danny objected. "The money was great, and it was good for our image to visit some of these smaller eastern towns. Every gig can't be Vegas, ya know."

"Think Grandma and Grandpa will peek, Mom?"

"At what, Chris?" Shirley asked her seven-year-old son.

"At the presents we sent," Chris explained patiently. "I still think it would have been easier to send Santa the list and let him deliver everything to Grandma and Grandpa on Christmas Eve. We could have . . ."

"You dope," Danny butted in. "There's . . ."

_"Danny!"_ Shirley said sharply.

The entirely too mature ten-year-old shifted gears neatly. "There's no need for Santa to deliver presents for us, Chris," he continued. "Grandma and Grandpa want to see us, not get Santa gifts. Besides, we want to be there when they open their presents . . . and even better than that, they have presents for us!" Danny glanced at his mother, who nodded approvingly at his fast cover-up, but shook her head over her ten-year-old son's mercenary streak.

"I'm bored, Mom." Chris sighed again. "And I miss Simone."

Shirley fought another skid. "I do too, but he wouldn't be happy on such a long trip. Besides, you know how that dog loves to run. It worked out much better this time to airfreight him on ahead to Grandma and Grandpa's and let them take care of him. He will be coming home on the bus with us after Christmas! You'll be seeing him soon, honey. I promise. Have you finished your homework?" she asked, trying to distract him.

Chris nodded. "Yes . . . I think I'm caught up with everything Mrs. Naschez gave me. It's just too bad . . ."

"What's too bad, sweetheart?"

"Well, I don't know. I just thought that when we started traveling and singing that we wouldn't have to worry about _home_work unless we were at _home_."

"No such luck!" Keith said ruefully. "You know, sometimes I think I end up doing more schoolwork when we travel than I would if I just went to class every day. I gotta admit though, I kind of like keeping a travel journal for Geography. It gives me a chance to reflect and regroup . . . writing, I mean."

"Keeping a diary is very relevant," Laurie turned to her brother. "I keep two. One for school and another to explore my innermost feelings, and . . ."

"There she goes again!" Keith grinned. "Off on another psychological tangent."

"My big sister. Part of the lunatic hippie fringe." Danny added.

"Laurie, Hon, how's Tracy doing?" Shirley interrupted, trying to keep the expected bickering between her daughter and sons at a minimum. "She was looking awfully punky earlier. I think she's might really be coming down with something." Shirley fought to keep the bus on the road, while she made another turn.

Laurie rose and moved carefully toward the back of the bus where her five-year-old sister was sleeping, cuddling her favorite stuffed animal. Gently, she put a hand to Tracy's forehead. "I think she's getting warmer, Mom. In fact, I'm sure she is." Laurie frowned. "Actually, she's really hot . . ."

"I was afraid of that . . ." Shirley muttered. "We're really going to have to stop SOMEWHERE and let me get some medicine into her — aspirin, at least." She frowned, and then pumped the brakes of the bus. "Darn. Almost missed a turn . . . " And she made a grab for the map on the dashboard. "Now let's see . . . we make a right turn here . . ." Carefully, she made a wide turn onto Bay Road.

**xxxxxxxx**

"Mom, where are we?" Danny asked, peering out the bus window at the snow that was falling even more densely. "I thought we were headed toward the highway that goes to Philly. We must have gone at least three miles, and there's no highway anywhere around here, that I can see."

"I thought we were, too," Shirley sighed, and glanced at her children. "I must have made a wrong turn back there." She leaned closer into the wheel of the bus. "I guess I need to . . ."

"Mom! Look out!" Keith shouted.

_"Mommy!"_ came Chris's shriller tone.

_"Oh . . . "_ Shirley felt the bus start to slide out of control . . . _What's the rule? Turn INTO the direction of the skid? What do I know? I live in California . . . Random thoughts ran through her brain. _"Hold on, everyone!" There was a sickening crunch from under the front end of the bus, and it came to a sudden, jolting stop, tilting sideways at a deep angle. "Everyone okay?" she asked, keeping what she hoped was a steady tone to her voice.

"Okay here," said Laurie. "Tracy's fine, also . . . awake, but fine." And she gave her sister a hug.

"We're okay, too," said Keith, speaking for himself and his brothers. Glancing toward the back of the bus, he nodded. "Looks like the instruments are all right also. Nothing fell, or broke open, anyway."

Shirley exhaled slowly. "No bumps or bruises? You're sure?"

Keith nodded his head again; his sisters and brothers following suit. "We're fine, Mom. Not sure I can say the same about the bus. From that sound I just heard, I think it could be the front axle."

"Oh, no!" his mother moaned. "Not here! Not now!" She stole a look at Tracy, still curled up in the back with her sister. She could see now that the little girl's face was indeed flushed, and she was cuddling Laurie. Tracy wasn't a cuddler unless she was sick. This was not a good sign.

"No way to tell until we get outside," Keith grunted, grabbing his coat and gloves. "Let's go take a look."

"Me too," put in Danny, donning his jacket.

Together, mother and sons headed for the door of the bus, and into the falling snow.

**xxxxxxxx**

"Man, that is one messed up axle, from what I can see," Keith said, straightening his back and dusting the snow first off the knees of his jeans, where he had knelt to examine the bus, and then from the top of his head. It was a futile gesture at best with the way the snow was falling and blowing. "It's a cinch we are going nowhere tonight."

"You're sure?" his mother asked, giving him a worried frown. "You don't think we could just . . ."

He shook his head. "No way, Mom. First of all, we are in a ditch, and I don't think we can get ourselves out of it without a tow. Second, and more importantly, I'm pretty sure that front axle is broken. And if the axle IS broken, we are going no place, fast."

Shirley wiped the snow off her face. "Keith, this isn't good. We could freeze out here, and even if we could bundle up enough to stay warm for the night, Tracy is looking worse by the minute. I don't want her out in this weather all night . . . or any of you, really."

"I'm not sure what choice we have, Mom," Keith answered. "From the looks of things, and because of that wrong turn, we're sort of out in the boonies here. The best thing we can do at the moment is bundle up, keep the motor running on the bus, the heater on, and hope for the best until morning."

"Morning?" his mother gasped. "Why . . . " she glanced at her watch. "It's barely ten thirty, and it's freezing already. Daylight won't be here until at least six a.m. . . . There's no way I am going to have my children . . ."

"Children? Mom . . ."

"My _children_ sit in the cold for the next eight hours."

"Mom, we could do it. It would be like camping out. We have our sleeping bags and stuff, and it's not like we would be outside . . ." Keith protested, unwilling to give up without a fight.

"Hey, Mom?" Danny said, looking off in the distance.

"Hush, Danny. Keith, I am still the head of this family. Playing lead guitar is not the same as being in ch . . ."

_"Mom . . . "_ Danny said again.

"Shh."

"You heard her," Keith said, turning to his brother. "Why don't you get back in the bus? We need to tell Laurie and Chris what . . ."

"Keith, I told you we are not spending all night in a cold bus. We could at least try to . . ."

"MOM!" Danny shouted.

Shirley rolled her eyes and turned to her younger son. "Okay, Danny. You have my attention. You want to have your say, too, is that it?"

"Well, yeah. Kind of."

"Well, what's your vote? Camp all night inside the bus? See if we can do anything to . . ."

"Neither." Danny pointed. "I think we ought to make a hike for that house over there."

"HOUSE?"

"Yeah," Danny answered, and jerked his gloved thumb in the direction of lights, glowing softly in the distance, approximately one-quarter mile away. "That one. At least I THINK it's a house."

"Looks like it to me, too," Keith muttered. "I can't believe I missed those lights."

"Well, yeah. I get to be right, sometimes," Danny fired back.

"Enough, you two," Shirley cut in. "We'll discuss this later. Right now, back inside." And she gestured toward the door of the bus.

**xxxxxxxx**

"So what's the scoop, Mom?" Laurie asked, as the three climbed the stairs and stood in the front area, by the driver's seat, shaking the snow from their heads, and dusting it off their coats. "Are we ready to go?"

"Not unless you have a spare axle under your seat," Keith grimaced. "Ours has gone bye-bye."

"If you mean it is broken, just say so," Laurie made a face back at him. "I took that auto mechanics course at the YMCA this summer, remember?"

"Does that mean you can fix it?" Chris asked, turning to his big sister.

Laurie shook her head. "I might be able if I had the right tools . . . but not here. Not now, and definitely not in the snow!"

"The right tool being a big, strong, handso . . ."

"Don't even say it, Danny." Laurie gave her brother a sharp look. "So now what do we do, Mom?"

Shirley Partridge wiped the last of the water off her face. "We saw some lights burning in the distance, and we're fairly sure there's a house out there in this mess . . . maybe three or four blocks away. In the snow, it's hard to tell. We're going to go see if we can borrow a phone and call a mechanic, or something."

"Wait a minute, Mom . . . " Keith cut her off. "You . . . well, you're a female, and I don't think you should go. I'm the oldest male . . . I'll go find help."

"Not without me, you don't." Danny started pulling on the coat he had just removed. "Safety in numbers. No one is going anywhere alone in the dark and in the cold . . . not even you, bro. I'm coming with."

Keith nodded, and looked slightly relieved. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Maybe we should take Tracy with us?" Danny queried, looking at his sister, who had awakened and moved up toward the front to be with her brothers and sister. "She looks worse than she did twenty minutes ago. Possibly we . . ."

"Forget it, you two," Shirley said, holding up her hand. "There's no way I am going to send you out into the dark alone, in the snow! I guess we are staying put. Tracy is already sick. I don't need you two getting sick, too. Our voices are our livelihoods, after all."

"But you said we could get a cold or something if we camp out on the bus all night when it's freezing," Danny pointed out. "By then Tracy could get worse, and besides, who's to say it will stop snowing by morning? Then where will we be?"

"I hate it when Danny's right," Laurie added her two cents. "But in this case I think he might be . . . I mean about you staying here, Mom. Tracy might need you, or something. But he's wrong too . . . I'm second oldest, I should be going with Keith."

"Uh, Uh!" Keith shook his head again. "Not MY sister! No way! Something could happen to you."

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, Keith Partridge." Laurie sniffed. "Even if you can't protect me. Fine attitude! Chauvinistic, stubborn . . ."

"Don't start with the Miss Liberated stuff, Laurie!" Keith pleaded, and he turned to his mother. "Mom, you tell her. It's not safe for her or you to . . ."

"Excuse me, but can I butt in here?" Danny asked, raising his hand in the air.

Shirley sighed. "What is it, Danny?"

"Oh, just that since we have been arguing about who should go, the temperature has dropped, Tracy can't possibly be getting better, Chris looks like he is falling asleep, and if we are going to do something, we need to do it soon, before we can't!" And the ten-year-old stared out the window into the blackness. "I wish I could call Mr. Kinkaid. He'd send help."

"If we had a phone to call Mr. Kinkaid, we could call a garage instead, and we wouldn't have to call Mr. Kinkaid," Chris murmured sleepily from his seat.

Shirley grinned, in spite of herself. "Portable phones! Sounds like a great idea! Right up your alley, Danny! Go invent one! You'd be the first to use it, for sure!" Her face turned serious. "Okay, kids, decision time. Keith, Danny, go for it."

Keith turned to her. "You mean it, Mom?" he asked, buttoning his coat again.

"Really, Mom?" Danny asked, following his brother's example.

Shirley nodded. "Yes. Tracy doesn't look well at all, and I can't gamble on what will happen to her if she stays here all night. Go. I'm holding the clock. If you aren't back here in forty-five minutes, I'm coming after you!" She ran to the back of the bus and grabbed the longest mike cord they had from the pile of sound-system cords piled at the back of the vehicle. Carefully, she tied one end around Danny's waist and the other around Keith's.

"What's this?" her older son asked.

"This will keep you two from getting separated, and hopefully keep you from getting lost on the way to that house," Shirley explained.

"Cool idea!" Danny exclaimed, making sure his knot was tight. "Where'd you learn this trick?"

His mother shrugged. "Television. Something about mountain climbing. Can't remember what show, but this really isn't the time to talk about it. Oh, one other thing . . ." she added, as she saw Keith putting on his hat. ". . . Some people get really uptight about show people, especially rock groups. I wouldn't . . . Uhm, expand on that point . . . who we are, I mean. Just be polite, state the problem — that we were visiting the area for the holidays, got stranded, about the axle, about your sister being sick, and hope for the best. That's the truth. No need to elaborate. And incidentally . . ." another thought occurred to her. ". . . If someone answers the door, and you don't like their looks, or if their attitude rubs you wrong in any way, Turn around, and run, not walk, back toward the bus as fast as you can. Do you understand me?"

Keith nodded, and so did Danny, but her younger son protested, too. "You mean we can't tell them who we are? About the group? Our hit single? Anything?" Danny demanded, hands on hips. "They MIGHT recognize us, you know. Mom, what's the . . ."

"Knock it off, bro, or I'll change my mind, and take Laurie after all," Keith threatened.

"Okay," Danny muttered. "But just wait! I bet they'd be GLAD to be putting up the Partridge Family for the night!"

"Or putting up WITH the Partridge Family, maybe!" Laurie interjected. "At least one of the members!"

"Very funny!" Danny grimaced. "I get the message!"

_"Charge!"_ Keith said, and quickly, Danny and Keith Partridge headed out toward the lights, flickering in the distance.

**xxxxxxxx**

Let it Snow was more than a song, it was reality set to music this night.

"Vaughn Monroe needs to learn to keep his mouth shut!" Carolyn Muir laughed, nodding toward the radio. "Wouldn't you agree, Captain?"

The spirit of Gull Cottage smiled. "I heartily agree, my dear!" And he reached for his teacup, put down the newspaper he was skimming through, and gazed into the fire. "The last time Schooner Bay has had snow like this was . . . let me think . . . 1868, I believe. The entire town was immobilized for almost a fortnight. A most interesting time, indeed!"

"I'll bet!" Carolyn nodded, glancing toward the window. "No tractors, snow-plows, radio, television . . . you must have really felt cut off from the rest of the world."

The seaman nodded. "I was! My ship was in port, of course, and I was here at Gull Cottage when the storm hit, but I didn't see a soul for most of that time immediately following. None of my mates could make it out my way for more than a week, and of course, not my cleaning woman. I managed, naturally. It was a nice time to rest and relax, but different, too."

"Well, I suppose if you had plenty of food and firewood you would have been all right," Carolyn mused. "Kind of like we are all set, now. I wish the snow hadn't made Mom and Dad cancel their plans for visiting here during the holidays! When you talked to your friends later, did any of them say anything about being worried about you?"

Daniel nodded. "Yes. My friend Sean O'Casey finally made it through on foot just to make sure I was alive and well, and he ended up staying in the guest room for a couple of days. By then the snow started to melt and life returned to normal."

"Was there any serious damage to property, or the ships in port, or anything like that?" Martha asked, fascinated.

"Some," the seaman admitted. "But not as much as there could have been. The real repercussions came months after the storm."

"What?" Carolyn asked, intrigued. "Floods? Property damage not discovered until spring?"

"No . . ." the seaman answered, with a twinkle in his eye. "We had a significant increase in the population of Schooner Bay the following September!" He laughed uproariously, and watched as both Carolyn and Martha's faces turned pink. Then the seaman's face turned grave. "I'm glad I was around for that . . ." he said, and gave a wan smile. "I was able to witness the christenings of several of my shipmate's children before I . . . died." His face turned sadder still, and for a moment, Carolyn thought he might fade out, as he sometimes did when matters disturbed him deeply.

"Daniel, I . . ." Carolyn started, trying to smooth over the moment, and keep him from leaving. "I'm —"

"Well, I for one, am getting just a little tired of this blasted snow!" said Martha, deciding that keeping the situation light might be the best course of action. She grinned and looked up from her corner where she was rocking away, working on the slippers she was determined to get finished for Candy for Christmas. "This white stuff can stop any time now, as far as I'm concerned. But the kids wanted snow for the holidays, and I guess that's one Christmas wish they DID get!"

Carolyn frowned and put down the book she hadn't been reading. "Well, I'm glad we finished all the holiday shopping and wrapping and decorating and whatnot a few days ago! This much snow is ridiculous . . . and if we didn't have much food in the house, it could really get scary . . . as it is, basically we could be trapped in here through Christmas!"

"I can't imagine being trapped with more delightful company than you and yours, my dear!" and Daniel Gregg gave Carolyn a special smile. "I hope you do know, however, that were you to need anything while the snow is preventing passage to and from town, that there is nothing I cannot do in regards to that! The weather does not affect me as it does you. Your latest writing project for that magazine? What was it again? You did get it safely sent off the other day, did you not? I would be glad to pop into town and drop it in the post, if need be. I could do it without being seen by anyone."

Carolyn shook her head. "No, Captain, but, thank you. I took care of it two days ago, and now I am gloriously free, free, free, until the New Year!"

"Which article did you finish, Mrs. Muir?" Martha inquired. "The one about the haunted lighthouse or the one about the dedication of that seaman's statue in New Devonshire?"

"I finished both of those two weeks ago," Carolyn smiled. "The one I just polished off was for _Tomorrow Magazine._ Tom Corbett, the editor, contacted me about writing it a couple of months ago. My article was about being a single mother and raising children in a small town, verses a large city, like Philly. It was pre-sold, and I loved writing it. I'm hoping he will ask me to do a follow-up, but I haven't heard anything from him, yet."

The clock on the mantle struck eleven and knock came at the door.

"What on earth . . . " Martha started, and looked first at her employer and then at the seaman.

"Now who could that be at this time of night?" Carolyn stood, and started toward the foyer.

"And in this weather?" Captain Gregg added.

"Claymore?" guessed Martha.

"Not very likely!" Daniel Gregg shook his head as the three made their way toward the front door. "You wouldn't catch that brittle-boned Milquetoast out on a night like this. Not for love or money . . ." He grinned. "I take that back. He might for money, but it would have to be a LOT of money!"

Carolyn smiled. "I don't think it's Claymore, Captain. But if you don't mind, could you . . ."

"Of course, my dear," the seaman answered, catching her drift. He vanished immediately, intent on invisibly checking out the late arrivals. Carolyn opened the front door, Martha right behind her, still carrying her knitting needles, just in case.

"Yes?" On the other side of the entryway stood Keith and Danny Partridge, soaking wet, ice cold, and water and ice streaming down their faces. Carolyn, rather taken aback at the sight, stared at the two boys . . . well, one was a boy, but the other was definitely more of a young man. "May I help you?"

Keith looked startled — as if he was almost surprised to see someone actually answer the door. "Oh! Hi!" He started speaking in a rush. "I'm Keith Partridge . . . " and a small clump of snow slid off of his hat, down his forehead and over his nose. Quickly he wiped it away. "And this . . . " he gestured. "Is my brother, Danny."

"Hello . . . " Carolyn smiled. "I'm Carolyn Muir, and this," she motioned to Martha, "is my housekeeper, Martha Grant."

"Glad to meet you!" Keith shivered and pulled off his wet gloves. "I'm really sorry to bother you, but we were driving through the area on our way to visit our grandparents, and got caught by this storm . . . and, well, our bus broke down about a quarter mile from here . . . slid into a ditch, actually. I'm pretty sure the axle is broken too." He gave Carolyn the same soulful look that had already appeared on the cover of various teen magazines, such as _Tiger Beat_ and _Sweet Sixteen_. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but can we come in for just a moment, please and use your phone to call a mechanic?"

"We can pay you for the phone call . . . " Danny spoke up, and fished in his pocket. "Can you change a quarter?" he asked, holding one out to her.

"That won't be necessary!" Carolyn smiled. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid our phone stopped working over two hours ago. You know . . . all the snow . . ."

Danny shivered, and gave his older brother a look, and shrugged.

"Would you like a towel?" Martha asked, and held some out to the two.

"Thanks, Martha." Carolyn smiled. "I didn't even see you go get those."

"That's me, the miracle worker," the housekeeper rejoined.

The spirit of Gull Cottage materialized in the front yard into Carolyn and Martha's view — but behind the boys, who were still standing on the covered porch. Carolyn blinked. In spite of the blizzard going on outside, Daniel Gregg was, of course, coatless, and untouched by the snow falling around him. It was rather incongruous next to Keith and Danny, who were now toweling themselves off.

He nodded. "Don't worry, my dear. These two can neither hear nor see me unless I wish it. But the lads are telling the truth. I found the bus. It's covered in snow and ice. I didn't venture too close . . . I wanted to get back here, but it is definitely in a ditch, and from what I could tell, there is most assuredly something wrong with it."

"Please, both of you . . . come in and finish drying off!" Carolyn continued, hurriedly, before the two boys wondered what she was looking at, besides them. "I'm afraid there won't be any way to get a mechanic out here, since we can't call one, and I doubt if they could make it out here, anyway. You'll just have to stay here tonight, and we can call in the morning, or whenever the phone lines are back up."

Danny gave his brother a nudge in the ribs with his elbow, and Keith nudged him back. _"I know . . ." _he whispered, and turned back to Carolyn.

"Well, actually, it's not just us two. You see, my mom and sister and another brother and my other sister, Tracy, she's five, are still back at the bus. And Tracy isn't feeling good, either . . ."

The Captain disappeared, and then reappeared seconds later, before Keith had a chance to continue speaking, and nodded again, indicating what Keith said was accurate. "The young man is telling the truth, Madam. There are four other people still on that bus. You must get them to Gull Cottage, immediately."

"Well, don't just stand there!" Carolyn smiled, partly at Danny and Keith and partly at the spirit behind them, and then added in a more motherly tone than anything else: "What are you waiting for, you two? Get a move on!"

Danny and Keith gave her a slightly unbelieving look. This woman had really just volunteered to take in six total strangers?

"Well, go on!" Carolyn said, gently. "Come on, you two. You're going to catch your death if you're out all night in this weather!"

"It's terrible out," Martha added. "Not a fit night for man or beast OR gho . . . " She looked at the seaman, still standing behind the two boys. "Uhm . . . GO get your brother and mother and sisters, and hurry it up! I'll have coffee and hot chocolate ready for you by the time you all get back."

"Wait a minute . . ." Carolyn stopped Keith and Danny as they started to put on their wet gloves and hats. "Your things are soaked!" Quickly, she reached toward the small wire stand that Martha had put just to the left of the front door, designed to dry and store their winter hats and gloves. "Here," she said, handing Keith her black set and Danny Candy's beige one. "These will keep you a little dryer until you get back . . ." And she stopped again. "Maybe I should come with you?" But she broke off again as she saw the seaman shake his head, indicating that he would keep an eye on the two invisibly, and make sure, somehow, that they wouldn't get lost on their way back to the bus. "No, I guess not. You know where you're going, and besides, you have my hat! I'll wait here," she added. "And help Martha get things organized."

Martha nodded. "And I'll take these wet gloves and hats and dry them in my bathroom. There's a radiator in there and it's nice and warm."

"Now . . ." they two women paused. _"Heave to!"_ they said together, and with an extremely grateful "thank-  
you" to their unexpected hostesses, the two Partridges put on their borrowed hats and gloves, secured the microphone cord around their waists, and headed back to the bus.

**xxxxxxxx**

Shirley breathed a sigh of relief as her family made their way up the flagstone walk of Gull Cottage. Tracy was getting heavy, but Keith was carrying luggage, as were the other children, along with what food they had in the bus. No sense being more of a burden than they HAD to be! Everyone had his or her hands full . . . there was no sense trading one load for another.

"Now don't forget what I said, you guys," she whispered. "Follow my lead and play down the show-business stuff until we know what's what. First we need to get Tracy inside where it's warm, and then we'll work out the rest of this."

Her brood nodded, and the door started to open just as they began to knock.

"I'll take Tracy, and come back for this luggage," Keith said, letting loose of his load on the porch and taking his sister. "You better talk to Mrs. Muir, Mom." He took his sister and hoisted her over his back, piggyback style. "Come on, Trace."

"Hello!"Carolyn gave them a wide smile as she opened the door. _So the holidays may get even more interesting!_ Carolyn thought. _But really, what else can we do? Turning away this family in need would be like . . . like that last innkeeper turning away Mary and Joseph! _Her thoughts continued. _We'll be all right. Daniel said it was okay, in fact he encouraged them coming, and it's not like we have never had overnight guests . . . expected or not! Harvey Dillman and Gladys Zimmerman, Aggie, Uncle Albert, Tim Seagirt, my cousin Harriet . . . just never quite so many at one time before! _Carolyn watched Keith, carrying a little girl, no more than five and a half, then a slightly-younger dark-haired girl, and Danny, followed by a little boy, somewhere around Jonathan's age, follow Martha toward the living room.

Shirley came in the door last, show and water dripping down her face, and she looked at Carolyn with what could only be described as complete and utter gratitude in her green eyes. Carolyn smiled back at her with her own green ones. "Hi . . ." Shirley smiled weakly, and pulled off her wet mitten to shake Carolyn's hand. "I'm Shirley Partridge. I'm really sorry about all this . . ."

"Nonsense," Carolyn smiled, taking Shirley's still-cold hand in her two warm ones. "I'm Carolyn Muir . . . Welcome to Gull Cottage!"

They all made their way to the living room where Martha was bustling around, collecting wet clothing and getting the children settled. "Now you all get those snowy things off, immediately!" Martha exclaimed. "My word, you must be freezing . . . We can't have you catching pneumonia! Where are you all from, again? You all get much snow? Were you ready for this weather?" She grabbed an afghan from the back of the couch and handed it to Shirley, now seated on the couch with Tracy, who was practically asleep, and Shirley wrapped her daughter up in it — leaving only her small, very red face visible.

"Thank you," she replied, gratefully. "I can't tell you how much we appreciate you taking us in like this. Please . . ." she gestured to the children around her. "Allow me to introduce my family. My sons . . . Keith and Danny, you've met. These . . . " she continued pointing around the room, " . . . are my son Chris, my daughter Laurie, and . . . " She gave her daughter a cuddle, "is my little one, Tracy."

"Pleased to meet you all," Carolyn waved to the Partridge children at large. "I'm Carolyn Muir."

"And I'm Martha Grant," the housekeeper interjected, "and I'm glad to meet you, too!" She grinned. "And what a full house we're going to have tonight! Now . . ." She looked more toward the children than Shirley. ". . .You just hand me those wet coats and mittens, and I'll start them drying, immediately, and then I'll just go check the status of the coffee and cocoa. It should be just about ready." She hastened out of the room, carrying the wet clothes.

"Are you all about ready for . . . coffee?" Carolyn looked at Keith, not quite sure what to offer the teenager.

"Yes, please!" He gave her a good-natured smile, and turned to his mother. "Mom?"

"Coffee would be wonderful" She turned back to Carolyn. "And maybe, if you don't mind, a glass of water? If I can get some aspirin into Tracy, she'll fall asleep shortly, and hopefully she'll sleep off this fever, before it goes too far."

"This is a really cool house," Danny commented, looking around. "Lots of antiques! I love that ship over there." He pointed toward one of Daniel Gregg's favorite models . . . a three-masted schooner in full sail. "I hope you have good insurance!"

"Danny!" Shirley moaned. "What a thing to say!"

"What?" her son answered. "It was a compliment!"

Shirley rolled her eyes and turned back to her hostess. "Are you sure we're no bother?" she asked. "I'm afraid we've descended on you like the proverbial band of gypsies! We'll try not to be too much trouble. If only the phone worked!"

"No phones tonight, I'm afraid!" Carolyn smiled. "And as I was telling your son, that would be only half the battle. You'd never get a mechanic out here at this time of night and in this weather, anyway. But don't worry! We'll find room for everyone. We've had unexpected guests before. This can't be helped . . ." Out of habit, she glanced at Captain Gregg's portrait over the mantle.

"So who's the groovy looking guy in the painting?" Laurie asked. "He's gorgeous. Is he your husband?"

At that, the Captain popped in, visible only to Carolyn, and preened.

Carolyn smiled. "He is at that, Laurie, but no . . . he's not my husband. That's the original builder and owner of Gull Cottage, Captain Daniel Alexander Gregg. He died just a little more than one hundred years ago."

"Oh . . ." Laurie looked more than a little disappointed.

"Hey! Daniel! That's my name too!" said Danny.

"Somehow I don't think I'll get the two of you mixed up," Laurie retorted. "Just look at those eyes! What a dreamy guy!"

"The young lady is very astute," said the Captain.

Carolyn ignored him, but inwardly, she couldn't help but think just that.

"So, if the Captain isn't your husband . . ." Laurie continued.

"Much to my regret . . ." the Captain said, sorrowfully.

"Is your husband here?" Chris asked, jumping into the conversation.

"Uhm, no . . ." Carolyn said, flushing at the Captain's comment. "I'm a widow."

"Oh," said Chris, wondering if he had put his foot in his mouth. "I'm sorry! But, hey . . . Mommy's a widow too! Guess you two have something in common."

Carolyn turned to look at Shirley who was still trying to hold her daughter with one hand and towel-dry her short, blonde hair with the other, and gave her an understanding smile and a sympathetic look. _All those kids! _she thought. Shirley smiled back, and the Captain popped out again . . . but Carolyn knew he was still somewhere in the immediate vicinity.

"So . . . " Danny asked. "Do you have any children?"

"Two," Carolyn answered. "Jonathan is eight, and Candy is ten. They're both in bed for the night. But you'll meet them tomorrow."

Martha came into the living room with a large tray covered with miscellaneous baked treats, pots of coffee, hot chocolate, a pitcher of water, and cups and saucers.

"Oh, wow! Thanks!" exclaimed the younger Partridge boys, and Laurie helped Martha by taking the pots and setting them on the coffee table, and then placing the food there also, and they all made a move for something to eat and drink. Keith thanked Martha, poured his mother a cup of coffee, delivering it to her on the couch, and then one for himself, took a grateful swallow and looked from his mother to Carolyn to Danny and Laurie and back again. "Drink up, Danny, Laurie, but don't get too comfortable," he stated.

"Why on earth not?" Laurie argued, more out of habit than anything.

"We have to go back to the bus," Keith said, with a certain amount of regret in his voice.

"The bus?" Laurie shook her head. "No way. My hair is just about dry, and I'm almost warmed up."

"Forget it," said Danny, giving his red head another rub. "It's cold out there. Are you a glutton for punishment, or what?"

"Keith?" His mother looked puzzled. "I must admit that I don't understand either. Why go back to the bus? It's late, I don't want to keep Mrs. Muir and Miss Grant up any later than I have to, and I'd like you all to get settled and get some sleep, too."

"We have to," Keith argued. "The instruments, Mom. The cold isn't good for them. We simply can't risk leaving them in the bus all night. Your keyboard might be okay, Laurie," he continued, looking at his sister, "but my guitar, Danny's bass, Chris's drums — they're sensitive to changes in climate."

"They're in cases . . ." Danny pointed out bleakly, moving closer to the fire.

"Doesn't matter," Keith said briefly. "You probably don't remember, because I taught you how to play, Danny, Chris . . . " He looked toward Shirley for support. "But my old friend, Tommy Laird warned me about this, ages ago. We've just never had to worry before because we've been doing more gigs where it's warm — nearer California, but extreme changes in temperature and humidity aren't good for the instruments. We have no idea how long we could be staying here, and that means we don't know how long our instruments will be out in the bus. We have to go get them." He gave his mother a "back me up, here" look. "Our instruments are our livelihood. We have to go."

"Instruments? You're musicians? Show people?" Carolyn asked, looking around nervously for the Captain. The spirit faded in quietly and stood to the left of his portrait. His eyebrows went up, but then he glanced quickly at Tracy, now asleep in her mother's arms, and then at the rest of the stranded family. He crossed his arms over his chest, said nothing, to Carolyn's relief, and continued to listen.

Shirley, as nervous about what her hostess might think about show folk as Carolyn was about the Captain, continued to downplay the group's celebrity status. "Uhh, well . . ." she answered. "We're just getting started. We've only been at it for a few months, actually . . . we're almost beginners, really . . . " _Which was sort of true! _She thought. _We haven't been at it very long . . ._"

"And you are really doing well at such a thing?" Martha asked.

Danny fidgeted, looking like he might pop any minute. He knew better than anyone did how well they were doing.

Shirley gave a little smile. "We're making progress. And I certainly like what we are doing now better than being a bank teller, which is what I ended up doing right after my husband died. Singing? It's a living, as they say. We all enjoy it, and I like being able to spend time with my children — something I couldn't do enough right after I was widowed."

Carolyn nodded, "I understand that! I'm a writer. Working at home gives me a whole different kind of freedom when it comes to being on call for my children."

The Captain rubbed his beard and turned to Carolyn. "I like the cut of this woman's jib, my dear," he said, thoughtfully. "Show folk or not, as far as I am concerned, they can stay. The little girl is sick, and it is late! I rather like this crew. They interest me. I admire their spunk . . . as I admire yours, dear lady." She threw him a grateful look. "Besides . . . " he added. "I'm not entirely against show people, you know. That young man, Tim Seagirt was nice enough . . . I allowed . . . made sure he stayed overnight, and, as I recall, Mr. Mason was a decent chap too. He and his dog . . . what was his name? Louie? Would have been welcome to stay also, had the need arisen."

Shirley, unaware of course, of the exchange between Carolyn and the spirit of Gull Cottage, glanced first at her sons and elder daughter and then at Carolyn. "Keith, I hate to keep Mrs. Muir and Miss Grant . . ."

"Carolyn . . ."

"Martha . . ."

"Carolyn and Martha awake . . ."

"Mom," Keith interrupted again. "I gotta insist on this. If it's a choice between the instruments and equipment staying warm, and me, I'd rather it be the . . ."

"That won't be necessary," Carolyn smiled again. "We'll find room for everything somewhere. We'll start with storing things in the . . . alcove." She paused for a moment, glancing at Daniel Gregg, who nodded his assent.

"Okay," Shirley sighed, looking down at her sleeping daughter and over at her almost-asleep son. "Give me a minute here, and I'll . . ."

"You'll stay here, Mom," Keith said firmly. "Laurie, Danny and I can handle the basics." He looked at his brother and sister. "Right, guys?"

"Right," Laurie said, giving the Captain's portrait another long look, and she looked around for her coat.

"Right," Danny agreed. "Guess those instruments are too important to take a chance with."

Within moments, Martha had retrieved their coats and mittens, and the three elder Partridges had set off out into the snow once more.

Carefully, Shirley Partridge rose, and placed Tracy on the couch, covering her with the afghan. She stretched. "Feels almost good to stand!" she laughed quietly, and reached her arms over her shoulders, trying to massage her own neck. "My, but I'm stiff . . . all that driving in the cold, I guess." She smiled apologetically at Carolyn. "Any chance of any more coffee? Don't go to any trouble on my account, though. I can do without, if need be."

"Why, no problem at all," Martha started to move toward the kitchen. Carolyn shot her housekeeper a quick look, and Martha stopped.

"That's okay, Martha," Carolyn said quickly. "I can get it. You . . . stay here and keep Mrs. Partridge . . ."

"Shirley."

"Shirley, company for a few minutes. I'll get the coffee." A thought struck her. "Why don't you give her one of your famous five-minute back-rubs? I'll bet she can use it after driving a bus in a snowstorm!"

Martha grinned. "Great idea, Mrs. Muir." She gave Shirley a short bow. "Madam . . . this way!" And she led her to a straight chair.

**xxxxxxxx**

"Captain? Captain, are you here?" Carolyn whispered as she poured the remainder of the coffee brewing on the stove into the china coffeepot.

"Present, my dear," the seaman responded, materializing into view. "I was watching Mrs. Partridges' three eldest, brave their way in the snow. Plucky souls they are, too. They're almost halfway to their vehicle. You probably should . . ."

"Captain . . ."

"Yes, my dear?"

"Captain . . ." Carolyn swallowed. "Daniel, thank you."

The spirit looked surprised. "For what? For allowing these stranded souls a safe haven during a storm? My dear, I could hardly do any less."

"I know . . ." She gave him a dazzling smile. "And really, I wouldn't expect any less of you either, but I also know how you feel about stowaways on board your . . . ship."

The seaman gave her a tender smile. "My ship, dear lady, yes, I suppose, and that is most kind of you to say, but more and more every day, I've realized that Gull Cottage is a home . . . my home and yours . . . the home I always thought it could be, but never quite was during my lifetime, but what you have made so after my life was no more. You'll never know much your presence here in Gull Cottage has meant to me this past two and a half years."

"Why . . . Daniel . . ." Carolyn's voice almost cracked. "What an incredibly sweet thing to say!"

Daniel Gregg blustered at her words, and her tender use of his Christian name. "How many times do I have to tell you that I am NOT now, and never have been, SWEET?" He looked uncomfortable.

"I know better, Daniel!" Carolyn smiled and turned back to the stove where she emptied the last of the cocoa into the other serving pot.

"I think I will go check on our guests, my dear." And with that, the seaman disappeared.

**xxxxxxxx**

"That looks so good!" Shirley eyed the two pots as Carolyn put them down on the coffee table and sat down in the easy chair next to the couch, facing her. Tracy was napping, and Chris was looking perky again, polishing off another piece of Martha's gingerbread, and reading a comic book Jonathan had left in the living room. Martha had excused herself to go tidy the kitchen after the late night kitchen raid.

"I adore coffee," Carolyn smiled, agreeably. "My mother can't understand how I can drink it and then drop off to sleep. It keeps her awake half the night if she drinks it past one in the afternoon."

"My father is the same way now!" Shirley grinned. "And he used to tease me about drinking it at such a young age. Kept threatening me that it would stunt my growth, or something. I stole my first cup from him when I was in eighth grade. Loaded it down with cream and sugar, of course, but I've loved it ever since!"

Carolyn gave Shirley a long look.

"I used to have a friend who bragged about drinking her father's coffee when he wasn't looking," she said thoughtfully.

Shirley smiled. "You never did that?"

"Sure," Carolyn frowned "But isn't it odd that . . . " She shook her head. "You know, it's strange, Mrs. Partridge . . ."

"It's Shirley, remember?"

"Shirley. At first I thought it was my imagination, but I have the oddest feeling that I know you . . ."

"Well . . ." Shirley stopped for a moment, not quite sure if she should continue, and wondered what this kind, quiet woman would say if she knew she was sheltering what _Variety_ called _"the biggest singing sensation since the Cowsills."_

"Madam, are you all right?" the Captain asked, popping into the living room, and hovering (figuratively) near the back of Carolyn's chair.

"I'm fine," said Carolyn. Shirley gave Carolyn a puzzled look, and Carolyn nodded, distracted, half to the seaman and half to Shirley. "There's something . . . " she continued. "Just that . . . this may sound crazy, Shirley, but where are you from? I mean where do you live when you aren't visiting relatives, or . . ."

"California," Shirley answered, wondering what Carolyn was driving at. Did her hostess recognize her as the matriarch of The Partridge family after all? "San Pueblo, California."

"Oh." Carolyn answered, disappointed "Hmm. I've never been there . . . That can't be it. Have you ever lived anywhere else?"

"Oh, well, I grew up in Pennsylvania," she answered.

Carolyn perked up. "Really? Where in Pennsylvania?"

"Philadelphia."

"Well . . . Carolyn chewed her upper lip, thoughtfully. "Where did you go to grammar school and junior high?"

"Ben Franklin Elementary, and Thomas Jefferson, Junior High, in Philly. Then my parents moved to California, where I went to high school, and married my husband, Jack, right after. My parents moved back there, after Dad retired."

"T.J.?" Carolyn answered, excited. "In Philly? I went to school at T.J.! And you were there in 1950?"

"Y-yes . . ." Shirley answered, more puzzled.

"Shirley . . ." A strange look was coming over Carolyn Muir's face. "What was your maiden name?"

"Renfrew. Shirley Renfrew."

"Yikes! SHIRLEY!" Carolyn squealed, and gave the startled woman a hug. "It's ME! Carrie! Carolyn Williams!"

"Carrie?" Shirley stared at her, her mouth hanging open. "It . . . it CAN'T be!" And she looked at the woman across from her, closely.

A trace of tears swelled in Carolyn's eyes. "It is if your name is Shirley Louise Renfrew and you were best friends all through grade school and junior high with Carolyn Joanne Williams, in Philadelphia."

"I don't believe this . . ." Now. Shirley's eyes were filling with tears also, and the two enveloped each other in a big hug. Shirley wiped the tears from her eyes, and smiled. "Ninth grade! That was SO LONG AGO...I can't believe I didn't recognize you! Well, I do know sort of — Your hair used to be halfway down your back!"

"Yours too!" Carolyn beamed back. "You always said you'd never get it cut!"

"You either!" Shirley grinned — "You know, I'm sure I still have a picture of you around somewhere . . ."

"It's been what?" Carolyn asked. "Twenty years?"

"Uhm . . ." Shirley hedged. ". . . Well, yes, I guess so! Oh, my! Twenty years!" And she embraced her long-lost friend once more. Martha came back into the room, hearing the excited sounds of her employer and her guest.

"What's up?" She asked, looking back and forth between Carolyn and Shirley. "What's going on?"

Captain Gregg turned his handsome face from one blonde to the other and back again, finally resting on Carolyn's face. "You know this woman?" he asked, "You're . . . friends? Old acquaintances?"

"We just figured it out!" Carolyn explained, looking at both Captain Gregg and Martha at the same time, "Shirley is Shirley Renfrew . . . a very old friend of mine from Philadelphia."

Shirley laughed. "VERY old? I'm not sure I like the sound of that! Oh my, Carrie! I can't believe this! Wait until we tell the kids!"

"Well . . ." The Captain tugged his ear thoughtfully. "This is certainly an interesting development!"

"Tell us what?" Keith asked, entering the room, followed by his brother and sister. Their hands were full of instrument cases — guitars, drums, Laurie's keyboard, two small speakers, and everyone's sleeping bags. "What's the joke?" Quickly, the three carried the instruments and equipment into the alcove and dropped the rolled sleeping bags in front of the fireplace.

"You're not going to believe this," Shirley grinned. "We know each other! Carrie . . . Mrs. Muir and I went to school together!"

"You're kidding," Keith answered, nonplused. "No way, Mom. This sort of thing only happens on old TV shows."

"Mommy?" A sleepy voice came from the entryway of the living room. "What's going on?"

"Jonathan!" Carolyn scolded, and ran over to get her son. "You shouldn't be out of bed!"

"I know," Jonathan let out a huge yawn. "But I heard noises, and wanted to know what was happening. Who are all these people, Mom?"

"Jonathan . . ." Carolyn looked down. "You shouldn't be down here in your bare feet!"

"I don't wear my shoes to bed," Jonathan said sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "Are we going to have a party?" he asked, looking at Shirley.

"No dear, you just get lots of company!" said Carolyn, giving her son a squeeze. "Jonathan, this is Mrs. Partridge." Quickly, she introduced the rest of the visiting family. "The Partridges are stuck here because of the snowstorm. They're going to be spending tonight here, at least."

"Hi, Jonathan," Shirley said softly. "We're sorry if we woke you up."

"That's okay," he answered. "Can your kids spend the night with me? Can they share my room? It's a new room," Jonathan said helpfully. "I mean, new to me. I used to share one with my sister, but we have our own rooms now. She kept the room we had, and I got the spare bedroom for my very own."

Danny and Chris turned to their mother. "Is that okay, Mom? We have our sleeping bags."

"I think that's very okay," Shirley smiled. "Thank-you, Jonathan."

"Cool," Jonathan said, and he looked at his mother again. "Want me to go wake up Candy so we can use her room, too?"

"No," Carolyn answered, and Shirley shook her head, agreeing.

"Don't wake up your daughter, Carolyn. We can manage."

"I would say I'm surprised she's still asleep, but I'm really not! Candy can sleep through anything and everything once she's out for the night," Carolyn laughed.

"I know . . . Laurie started doing that at ten too. She can sleep through almost anything!"

"Mom, please!" Laurie protested.

"It's true," commented Keith. "Nothing wakes you up."

"Please, don't think of disturbing Candy at this hour," Shirley continued. "We'll all manage."

"Madam," the Captain interjected. "The two younger boys could spend the night with Jonathan. They have their bedrolls, and there's room, and the room is quite warm . . ."

"Tell you what . . ." Carolyn glanced around the living room. "How about, Danny and Chris spend the night with Jonathan, Keith, you take the roll-away . . . we can put that in the alcove . . . We'll have to get it down from the attic, of course . . . it will be cramped with the instruments, but . . ."

Martha returned from the alcove. "Roll-away is already IN the alcove, Mrs. Muir!" She gave her employer a subtle wink.

"Thank-you!" Carolyn spoke to Martha, but looked at the seaman, who was now standing invisibly behind the housekeeper. "You're wonderful. Laurie, if it's okay, can you take the couch?"

Laurie nodded and yawned. "Sounds groovy."

Carolyn turned to her old friend. "That leaves you and me sharing the bed in the master bedroom, bunkie. Think you and I could manage in my room with Tracy? I can set up a little cot for her."

"This will be like old times," Shirley beamed. "Remember all those slumber parties we used to have? We must have driven our parents nuts!"

"I remember!" Carolyn nodded. "Seems like I was at your house or you were at mine almost every weekend! And now Candy is doing the same thing to me!"

"I remember Laurie wanted one every weekend at that age," Shirley agreed. "And now Tracy is making the same noises, and she's only five!"

"Mom, I'm ready to call it a night," Danny yawned.

"Me too," Jonathan mumbled and looked his mother, his eyes half closed.

"Me three," added Chris. "Jonathan, do you have more comic books I can read?"

"Tomorrow, love." Shirley smiled and gave her son's head an affectionate tousle. "You have plenty of time tomorrow."

"C'mon, guys." Jonathan yawned again. "This way . . ."

"Do you like baseball, Jonathan?" Chris asked, picking up his sleeping bag and following his host. Together, the three boys headed for the stairs.

"I'm gone too," Keith nodded. He grabbed his sleeping bag. "Night, all. Thanks again, Mrs. Muir." And he headed for the alcove entrance.

"Goodnight . . ." Martha said, as she watched the boys leave.

"Positive you'll be all right on the couch, Laurie?" Carolyn asked.

"Sure," Laurie nodded. "But I'm so tired, I think I'll sleep in my clothes tonight and change in the morning! Don't worry about me, Mrs. Muir," she continued. "I know I'll have sweet dreams with Captain Gregg standing watch!"

Carolyn and the Captain started, and Carolyn looked at the seaman out of the corner of her eye. "The . . . Captain?" Carolyn asked, carefully.

"You know . . ." Laurie answered, looking toward the mantle. "His portrait guarding the place! I know I'll have great dreams with HIM watching over us!" She sighed. "Goodnight, Mom." She kissed her mother on the cheek. "Night, Mrs. Muir!" and Laurie made her way to the couch and started unrolling her sleeping bag.

The Captain smiled and looked pleased with himself. "This is really a very NICE group of people, Mrs. Muir!"

"I know a seaman whose ego is going to need a room of its own, if this keeps up," Martha muttered as she made her way to her room, but Carolyn, Shirley, and the Captain heard her laughing as she went down the hall.

"What did she mean by that?" Shirley asked, bewildered.

"Martha's uhm . . . humor can be a bit sarcastic, sometimes," Carolyn answered, hurriedly. "She's not that fond of the Captain's portrait."

"But she DOES approve of ME now," Daniel Gregg interjected, just before he disappeared.

"Well, shall we?" Carolyn asked.

"Definitely," Shirley nodded, picking up her daughter and following Carolyn to the stairs. "I need to see if I can get a couple of baby aspirin in Tracy, and . . . do you by any chance have some Vick's Vapor Rub?"

"Of course!" Carolyn grinned. "It's standard equipment . . . like peanut butter."

"Think the snow will stop by morning, Carrie?" Shirley asked.

"Hard to say," her friend shrugged. "But regardless of whether it does or not, I'm looking forward to at least one long day with you, and a BUNCH of catching up!"

_**December 23, 1970 - Wednesday**_

In spite of the late night for the Gull Cottage household and its visitors the evening before, Keith Partridge woke at approximately seven-forty five — long before anyone else, even Martha. Keith was, by nature, an early riser at home, and even more so when he was touring, regardless how comfortable the accommodations were. The roll-away Carolyn Muir had provided had been adequate, and he had fallen asleep almost immediately, but that morning, his inner-alarm clock went off — pushing him into consciousness at an sooner than expected hour on what was definitely a COLD morning!

Quietly, he pulled on fresh clothes; donning a heavy sweater, two pairs of socks and his now-dry tennis shoes, and made his way through the living room, walking slowly and quietly as to not wake Laurie, still slumbering soundly, covers over her head, on the living room couch, or Martha Grant, asleep in her room down the hall.

Silently he moved aside the curtains in front of the bay window a bit and peered out. At least a foot and a half of snow had come in the night. He could see drifts in the yard going in waves along the stone fence, in some areas looking as high as high as three feet — and it was still snowing! Not as hard as last night, but definitely still snowing.

_Is this all it does in Maine? Snow? _he wondered. Keith took a deep breath — letting it out slowly. As much as he hated the idea, as 'man of the family,' it was up to him to go check things out, and find out for sure what the deal was with the bus. _I could have been wrong last night . _. . he reasoned. _It was dark, we were cold and Tracy wasn't feeling well. Maybe the undercarriage just scraped a rock or something. Could be the axle isn't broken._

Carefully he made his way down the hall to the bathroom, where he grabbed his coat, hat and gloves, and then back out to the foyer, where he quietly opened the front door, stepped outside into the cold, and, making sure that the door was unlocked, closed it behind him and started toward the bus.

Within a half an hour, Keith was back, inside the house, sneakers removed and drying in the foyer, and he headed toward the kitchen.

"Big waste of time," he muttered. "I go out in the cold, slogging through this mess for almost a half an hour, and all I get is two blocks away, aching feet and wet shoes . . . again!" His thoughts continued. _The bus is another two blocks away from where I stopped, at least, and there's no sign of the trail we broke last night. It's been totally covered! I'm going nowhere until it stops snowing! Boy! Am I glad we went back and got the instruments . . . I hope the amps will be okay . . . wonder how much longer this will keep up? It doesn't look like it's falling quite as heavily as it was last night, but those drifts! _He shivered. "Coffee, that's what I need," he said out loud, rubbing his hands together.

Looking around, he found the pot on the back of the stove, the coffee in the refrigerator and, making as little noise as possible, he started a pot brewing. Lifting the phone receiver in the kitchen, jiggling the cradle a few times, and seeing the line was still dead, he replaced it and reached for a small newspaper laying on the kitchen table that said SCHOONER BAY BEACON in a typeface big enough to announce the next moon landing. He sat down to read, anticipating his first cup of coffee, and wait for his family and his hosts to wake and start a new day.

**xxxxxxxx**

Candy Muir opened one eye and then the other, and moaned. "Too early to get up," she muttered. "I'm on vacation. Not fair. Why did I wake up? No school, I'm not going anywhere today." Resolutely, she pulled the blanket over her head — for about one minute. No use. She was awake and there was no sense even trying to go back to sleep. She pulled the covers down again and looked at the clock. Eight a.m. She glared at the timepiece for a moment, and then, with a yawn, grabbed the bathrobe from the end of her bed. _Hey . . . Maybe I can get the mini Frisbee out of the Fruit Loops box. Jonathan grabbed it last time!_ And with that thought in her mind, she slid her feet into her slippers and made her way downstairs, yawning as she went. Scruffy, who had slept in the bedroom with her the night before, followed, looking up at her expectantly. Candy shivered and hoped that the little dog just wanted his breakfast. It had been snowing when she and Jonathan had gone to bed the night before, and the last thing she was looking forward to was letting the dog out.

As she hit the kitchen entryway, the smell of freshly brewed coffee caressed her nostrils. "Morning, Martha," she said, speaking but only half-looking at the figure sitting at the kitchen table, the SBB held in front of their face. She yawned again. "What's for breakfast?"

"Only coffee, at the moment," Keith Partridge said, lowering the newspaper and giving the little girl in front of him a friendly look. "I thought I better wait until everyone else wakes up before I raided the refrigerator." He gave her a million-dollar smile. "Hi there! I heard about you from your mom last night, after we got stranded here. You're Candy, right? Nice to meet you, I'm . . ."

"You're . . . you're . . ." Candy stammered, her eyes growing bigger by the minute.

Keith smiled again, stood, and held out his hand.

"I'm Keith Pa . . ."

"You're Keith . . . PARTRIDGE!" "_Mommymommymommymommy!"_ Candy screamed a tin-whistle scream, which in turn set of a stream of barks from Scruffy, waking the entire household.

Keith winced.

Martha arrived first, and gave Candy, who was now jumping up and down, her hands over her mouth, a perplexed look. "What's up?" she asked. "Keith, did you startle her?" She turned to the little dog, still yapping and now running circles around the 'intruder' in the kitchen. "Quiet, Scruffy, or you go down in the cellar." Instantly, the little dog stopped barking and hid under the kitchen table.

"I guess so," Keith mumbled. "I get that reaction sometimes . . ."

"Candy!" Carolyn called to her daughter from the doorway, and ran into the room, trying to get her excited child's attention. "Sweetie, what's the matter?"

"Keith!" Shirley Partridge entered immediately after. "What on earth . . .? What's going on?"

"I just said, hello," Keith gave his mother a wan smile. "She thought I was Miss Grant, there for a sec. She couldn't see my face behind the paper, I guess. I don't think she really expected to find me in the kitchen."

"Blast it, Madam! What is going on here?" The Captain materialized into view, visible only to Martha and the Muirs. "Who . . . Why has Candy sent up the distress signals?" He gave Keith a dark look. "Has this lad done something . . .?" His voice broke off as Laurie, Danny, Jonathan, Chris, and finally Tracy appeared in the doorway, and made their way into the kitchen. "Madam, just give the word and I'll keel . . ."

"Wait a moment," Carolyn said to the Captain out of the corner of her mouth, "Candy's okay . . ." Gently, she touched her daughter on the shoulders. "Candy, honey, what is it? What's the matter?"

Danny gave a nod and rolled his eyes. "Aw, she's just star-struck, that's all. I see it all the time."

Shirley gave Carolyn an apologetic look. "Guess I should have finished telling you last night, Carrie . . . I just forgot, in all the excitement. I was so happy to find you, and . . . Actually, we're . . ."

Slowly, Candy's focused from the teenage boy to the other visitors now occupying the kitchen, and on her face was a look of awe, recognition and amazement. Finally, she found her voice. "You're the _PARTRIDGE FAMILY . . . _" she whispered. "You are, aren't you? _Oh, wow . . ." _

"Candy, honey," Carolyn interrupted. "This is my old school friend, Shirley Renfrew . . . Partridge, I mean. She and her family were stranded in the storm last night. They showed up after you were in bed. They will be staying here until the roads clear and they can get their bus fixed."

"Candy, dear, what about some nice breakfast?" Martha asked, trying to bring in a sense of norm to the proceedings, and Candy nodded, dumbly.

"And these are her children," Carolyn continued, at which point, the Partridges waved at Candy. "Ke . . ."

"Keith, Laurie, Danny, Chris and Tracy," Candy interrupted, pointing to the visitors in turn. She looked around. "Where's your dog? Where's Simone?"

Shirley smiled. "With my parents, in Philly."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Candy frowned, and then glanced at the terrier, still under the table. "Scruffy'd have someone to play with."

"Madam, how does she know who all these people are?" the Captain asked, puzzled. "She was asl . . ."

"Honey?" Carolyn asked, bewildered.

Candy rolled her eyes, impatiently, no longer at a loss for words. _"Mother_ . . ." she said, enunciating the word, "this is the _PARTRIDGE_ family!"

"I know, sweetie. My friend, Shirley, and her family."

"No, Mom!" Candy sighed, broke loose from her mother and ran out of the room.

"I don't understand any of this, Shirley," Carolyn started. "I'm sorry. Candy has never . . ."

Shirley couldn't help it. She giggled. "I do, Carrie!"

Then, as quickly as she left the kitchen, Candy was back. "See?" she said, handing her mother a record album with a dark red cover — the one her grandparents had sent for her birthday, only the month before. She pointed to the front, where it said in golden letters:

_**The Partridge Family**_

Carolyn turned to the group in her kitchen — the message was finally sinking in. "You . . . you're THAT Partridge Family?" Carolyn stuttered, "The ones with that single that Candy plays interminably . . . that is, the one Candy likes so much?"

"Afraid so, Carrie!" Shirley Partridge grinned, embarrassed, and then gave a little shrug. "As I was falling asleep last night, I realized you really didn't know WHO we were, just that we were entertainers, but I was so happy seeing you again and knowing that everyone was safe and warm for the night, and I was so comfortable, and tired, I just . . . dropped off first!" She looked at her old friend, apologetically. "You don't have anything against show-business people, do you? Some people do, you know. They get these misconceptions . . ."

"Yes, I DO know," Carolyn glanced at the Captain for a split second, and then nodded. "But I don't feel that way, and neither does anyone else here, I think."

Shirley turned and peered out the kitchen window. "From the looks of things out there, I don't think we could leave if we wanted to. You really don't . . . mind us still staying here, do you?"

"Think of what it will do for your reputation, Mrs. Muir," Danny piped up.

"Reputation? What reputation?" Keith asked, turning to his brother.

"As a benefactor of mankind, doing her part for her town, the community!" Danny said. "After we leave, you can put a big sign in your window, saying _'The Partridges Slept Here!' _You could even sell tickets to the . . ."

"Danny!" Shirley looked appalled.

"Over my dead . . . that is, not on . . . Claymore's life," said the Captain.

Carolyn turned to look at the seaman, now standing next to Martha in front of the kitchen sink, and then at Jonathan and Candy.

"Please, Mom?" Jonathan begged, "Chris hasn't nearly finished telling me about California, and he wants to learn about knots, and he plays baseball, too! We were talking about it last night."

"Shh . . ." Chris nudged him.

"You were supposed to go straight to sleep last night," Carolyn murmured, distracted. "It's all right?" she asked, looking at the seaman and Martha at the same time.

The ghost of Gull Cottage shrugged. "My dear, I told you last night, I like this crew. It's up to you, naturally, but they are quite welcome to stay, as far as I am concerned, and for as long as is necessary. I bow to your needs and wishes . . . and theirs, in this matter."

Martha, taking her cue at Carolyn's 'doublespeak,' winked sideways toward the Captain.

"You're asking me, Mrs. Muir?" Martha shifted her gaze more toward Carolyn. "Oh, in terms of the housework, and all! No problems, here! All I ask is a little help with the dishes, and other chores around here, once in a while."

Carolyn smiled. "No one is going anywhere," she said, firmly.

"We'd be glad to pitch in wherever we can, Miss Grant," Keith interjected, "Just let us know when and where, and we're there!" He gave her a mock salute, and his siblings followed suit.

"Well, you can all start . . ." Martha said, looking around the room, " . . . by calling me Martha, please! I don't care for Miss Grant much, although I commend you for your fine manners." She glanced at Shirley. "But all MISS does, is remind me I'm not married . . . YET!"

The group laughed, everyone feeling a bit more at ease.

"And I'm Carolyn, by the way, all of you!" Carolyn added. "Or Aunt Carolyn, if you prefer."

"And make that Aunt Shirley for me," Shirley said, looking at Candy and Jonathan. Shirley felt a tug on her robe. Looking down, startled, she saw a very red-faced Tracy's brown eyes staring solemnly back. In all the excitement, they had forgotten about her!

"Mommy?" Tracy looked up at them, and then wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I'm hot. Can I get something to drink, please?"

Shirley Partridge looked at her daughter and then at Carolyn, concerned. "Hot? I was just going to tell her that the floor was cold and to get her slippers on! Honey . . ." She reached down to pick up her child, balancing her in one arm, and feeling her forehead with the other. "Carolyn, she's still really warm. We need to tuck her back in bed and start feeding her fluids. Trace has had these bouts before. She'll run a fever for a couple of days; get congested . . . Doctor Griffith thinks it's a viral thing she's prone to. He prescribed penicillin the last time this happened. Is the pho . . ."

Keith shook his head. "Sorry, Mom. I looked this morning, first thing. No dial tone, no operator. Phones are still out. I'll keep checking, though."

Carolyn grimaced. "One of the few things I do NOT like about a more rural life!" She reached over and felt Tracy's forehead also. "My word, honey, you ARE hot!" And she turned to her housekeeper. "Martha, how are we doing on children's aspirin?"

"I'll have to check, Mrs. Muir," Martha nodded. "It seems to me that I thought we could use some more, but we're not quite out yet."

"She still looks congested, too," Shirley added. "Sweetheart — " She held Tracy closer, and moved toward the door. "Honey, let's get you back upstairs again." And, turning to Carolyn, she added: "I don't think what she has is communicable, at least not so far, but there's no sense taking chances."

"I'll get breakfast started," Martha said in a capable tone. "I'll have toast and ginger-ale up there in a few minutes, Mrs. Partridge."

"It's Shirley, remember?" Shirley protested, but Martha shook her head.

"I feel more comfortable with 'Mrs. Partridge' . . . especially with you being a STAR, and all!"

"That must make me a star too, since I'm 'Mrs. Muir'!" Carolyn grinned.

"YOU'RE a writer!" Martha gave her a look.

Carolyn laughed. "And what is THAT supposed to mean?"

Shirley and Carolyn headed for the stairs, and Martha turned to the miscellaneous children still milling about in the kitchen. "Candy? Jonathan? Upstairs with you both. Get dressed, and don't forget socks and shoes! Laurie . . ." She glanced at the fifteen-year-old, still clad in her clothes from the night before. "Go ahead and change, and then see if your mom needs anything. Keith, you're dressed. How about getting that dozen eggs out of the refrigerator and start breaking them into this bowl?" She reached into the cupboard above the stove and handed him one. "Chris, Danny, you too — get dressed and report back here. I'm sure I can find something for you to do. Setting the table, for openers."

"Yes Ma'am!" The Muir's and the Partridges saluted, and went to work.

**xxxxxxxx**

Shirley and Carolyn spent the next twenty minutes or so getting Tracy situated. Carolyn put fresh sheets on the bed, maintaining when she was sick that fresh sheets made her feel better, and, without too much fuss, Tracy had submitted to a sponge bath to remove the old application of Vick's, and a light alcohol rub to help cool her down, and then a fresh application of the gooey Vapor Rub to her chest, but the child was still hot and uncomfortable.

"Come on, sweetheart!" Shirley said. "Time to get into your nightshirt and back into bed! Wasn't it nice for Carolyn to let you have this big bed all to yourself?"

"Don't want to go to bed," Tracy fussed. "I'm not sleepy!" she sniffed. "And I'm still thirsty, and everyone else gets to stay downstairs and have fun."

Shirley drew the child onto her lap. "Come on, lovey," she cooed. "You just took some more aspirin and it will make you sleepy in no time. Now listen, honey. Rest will make you feel better. You know that."

"It's too light outside to go to sleep!" Tracy protested, and she pointed toward the windows.

"I'll close the drapes," Carolyn replied, and quickly she went to the French windows — drawing the curtains and shutting the room off from the glare of the sunlight and still-falling snow. She was still standing there when the Captain materialized.

"How's the little one doing?" he asked. "Poor child! To be sick in a strange place! And so near Christmas, too!"

"Okay, sweetheart," said Shirley. "Now, into bed. Would you like another little bit of ginger-ale? Come on . . ." The child was still stubbornly seated on Shirley's lap, but then she glanced toward the windows again.

"Who's that?" Tracy asked, pointing directly at Captain Gregg, now standing next to Carolyn.

"That's Aunt Carolyn, honey," said Shirley. "Remember? You met her last night."

"No," said Tracy. "I mean the man."

Shirley turned to Carolyn, of course not seeing the seaman. "The man?" Shirley asked, confused.

"Yeah, Mom. The man with the beard. Hi . . ." Tracy smiled shyly, waved at Captain Gregg, and turned back to her puzzled mother, and hugged her again — whispering in her ear: "I thought we met everybody last night."

"There's no man, Tracy . . ." her mother said, puzzled.

"Captain . . ." Carolyn whispered.

"I know, Madam," said the Captain. "The little one can see me! But I'll be blasted if I know why! I must look into this immediately." And the seaman disappeared.

"He's gone now," said Tracy, and she finally crawled under the covers on her own accord — the aspirin starting to take effect. "Maybe he'll come back, Mommy, and you can see him. He looks nice." She yawned, and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

"If THIS keeps up, I'll take her temperature again," said Shirley with a sigh. "Tracy is known for spiking fevers when she's sick, and she's talked in her sleep — even sleepwalked, but I've never seen her hallucinate before! How odd!"

"Well, she's asleep now," said Carolyn, hurriedly. "We shouldn't talk here. We might wake her up again. Let's go downstairs and get some breakfast, shall we?"

"I suppose!" Shirley Partridge said, wrinkling her forehead. "Still, it's strange . . ."

"Shirley . . ." Carolyn urged. "There's a cup of coffee down there with your name on it."

"Well . . ." Shirley wavered, looking at her sound asleep child and then at her old friend.

"Come on," Carolyn answered, taking her friend's arm, and guiding her toward the door. "We'll leave the door a little bit open. We can hear Tracy call if she wakes up and needs anything, and everyone else will keep an ear out too."

"I guess that will be all right," Shirley smiled.

"Of course it will!" Carolyn grinned back. "Besides, Shirl, I've been patient, but you have simply GOT to tell me how my best girlfriend of fifteen of my very formative years ended up touring the country in a rock band! Anyone else in your respectable past know about your wild life?"

"Wild life!" Shirley covered a soft snort of laughter, and glanced again at her sleeping daughter. "One old school bus, five children, and dog, driving all over the country, and singing! Right! I'm right up there with Mick Jagger!"

The two old friends giggled, and headed for the kitchen.

**xxxxxxxx**

Carolyn Muir sat quietly at the kitchen table and watched her two children interact with the Partridge clan as everyone finished their breakfast. The kitchen was crowded, but it was a nice kind of crowded. Since there wasn't enough seating room at the table for all nine people, Keith, Laurie and Martha stood around the kitchen island eating, and Danny, Candy, Jonathan and Chris sat at the table with Shirley and Carolyn. With an extra table leaf added, there was just enough room for the whole noisy bunch.

Martha had made enough pancakes, she said "to stuff an elephant," and both the Partridges and the Muirs loved them. Scruffy, delighted with all the company, and was begging as much as he was allowed, and had seemed to find a special friend in Chris, who seemed to know all his favorite tummy rub spots. Candy, Carolyn noticed, kept staring at Keith, but so far she hadn't said a word to the young man since informing her mother who the stranded family actually was. She seemed communicative enough with the other Partridges, and Carolyn decided not to push — given the course of actions Candy had followed with Mark Helmore, it was really only a matter of time before Candy would relax, or lose interest in the boy. Jonathan, she was happy to see, was singularly unimpressed with this famous bunch — even though Carolyn had heard Candy try earlier to impress on her younger sibling who the group was, and why he should be awed by them.

"I know, they sing," he had responded, "I've heard you play their record often enough, and they're nice, and I really like Chris and Danny, and I'll share my toys with them, but if someone famous was going to get stuck here, I wish it could have been Joe DiMaggio, or someone really good." That remark had earned him a shot in the arm from his sister, and, rolling her eyes, she had gone back upstairs, coming down, Carolyn thought, dressed just a little more carefully than usual, considering it was a vacation day, and no school. After breakfast, Chris and Jonathan excused themselves, taking Scruffy with them, and Martha had started washing the dishes with Laurie and Candy helping.

"Okay now, Shirl," Carolyn asked. "Now that I have been properly 'educated' by my daughter as to who you are, how would YOU like to tell me how you ended up, of all things, in show business?"

"I'd like to know that, too!" Martha grinned. "I thought working for a writer was interesting — especially here in Gull Cottage," she snickered. "I can't imagine doing what you all do!"

"I too, am interested, dear lady!" Daniel Gregg materialized, and stood in the corner of the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind if I sit in on this discussion as well." Carolyn glanced at him. "Don't worry, my dear," he added. "At the moment you are the only one who can see or hear me." Carolyn gave a slight nod, surprised at the Captain's continued interest in "show people."

Shirley grinned, looking at her three elder children for support. "I blame my children," she said flatly.

"Blame? Mom!" Danny protested. "You told us you liked show business now, and face it, it is an exciting way to make a living."

"There are moments in the last six months I think I have had a little TOO much excitement!" Shirley smiled, and looked at Carolyn with laughing eyes.

"I think it would be fun," Candy commented shyly from where she was helping Martha and Laurie with the breakfast dishes. "I'm learning how to play the tambourine," she added to no one in particular.

"Aw, come on, Mom!" Keith protested. "You said you hardly ever have stage fright any more."

"I didn't say I don't have it, I said I know how to deal with it, Keith." Shirley sighed and turned back to Carolyn. "It was more of an accident, really, Carrie. I never meant to be a singer — not professionally anyway! I guess it was sometime in September. I was busy paying bills, and received a message from the girl singer of the music group the kids had formed — they've been playing together since they were old enough to hold an instrument — usually donated by my ever-lovin' parents!"

"Fred and Amanda, right?" Carolyn asked. "How in the world are they?"

"They just settled back in Philly after coming back from a trip around the world. Dad retired a few months ago," Shirley answered. "I can't wait to tell them how I found you again. Anyway, to get back to my story, Rabbi Steinman, the father of Gloria, the lead singer of the kid's group, called to say Gloria had the mumps and couldn't make it over that afternoon. I went to the garage where the kids were practicing and told them, and they were devastated — they had borrowed some equipment from the school to make a recording of the group, and the equipment HAD to be back the next day. The kids insisted that they had to have a soprano, and Danny got it in head that I should do it. I told them I couldn't, but Laurie gave me the final push. What can I say? It turned out well."

"More than well, Mom," said Danny. "Remember how I tracked down Mr. Kinkaid? And once he heard us . . ."

"Danny, it wasn't quite like that!" Shirley protested. "As I recall, you practically rammed us down his throat!"

"Danny chased Reuben into the MEN'S room at the airport trying to get him to listen to our demo," said Laurie. "Nervy, huh?"

"You never would have thought of it," Danny commented, briefly. "Let alone go into the . . ."

"I would, too," Laurie retorted, "now that you mention it. I'm a liberated woman, and . . ."

Daniel Gregg roared with laughter. "Now THAT's something I would give a sovereign to see!"

"Laurie, Danny, stop!" Shirley said, admonishing her offspring. "Anyway, Carrie, virtually the next thing we knew, the song was in the top forty and we were headed to Vegas as the opening act at Caesars Palace! Johnny Cash introduced us, and . . ." She trailed off, embarrassed.

"We were all scared witless!" said Keith, picking up the story. "Mom was fine, but we couldn't sing at all . . . All five of us froze — Mom wound up talking to us like a hypnotist, kind of, brought us back to thinking we were singing in the garage again, and we all started singing, and well — "

"We brought down the house," said Danny.

"I wouldn't go that far!" Shirley argued. "I think they were relieved that the five of you had stopped playing human statues. But our song . . ."

"_Let The Good Times In,"_ said Candy, quietly.

"That's right," Shirley smiled at Candy. " . . . Was still in the top forty, and suddenly we were in demand all over the country, and everything sort of mushroomed from there, and with my husband gone, it did seem like a good way to make a decent living, and we get to do it together."

"Sounds like quite a mammoth undertaking, my dear!" the Captain said quietly from where he was standing. "This crew has spunk! I am quite looking forward to hearing them play."

"The family that plays together, stays together. That's our motto!" said Keith, giving Candy a friendly wink. "Did you say you play an instrument, Candy?"

"The tambourine . . ." Candy mumbled. "A little. My mom gave me a set for my birthday, November ninth. I've been practicing to your songs."

"I'd love to hear you play sometime," he said, giving her another warm smile. Candy blushed furiously.

"I'm not sure why your singing for a living should surprise me, Shirley." Carolyn said, a far away look in her eyes. "I remember you singing for our ninth grade graduation . . . that song from _Carousel_ . . . remember? Your mother bought you the Broadway album and we used to play that as often as we'd play Patti Page and Paul Anka.

"No — actually, I had forgotten!" Shirley beamed. "You remember everything, Carrie! I know the song, of course, but I forgot all about singing it at graduation. What I remember most about that summer was moving and losing you as my best friend."

There was a moment of quiet and then Laurie blurted out: "Mom, why did you tell us you were tone deaf?"

"You always WERE modest about your talents, Shirl," Carolyn commented. "You were the same way in school, too."

"Not modest," Shirley protested, "I just never thought of myself as that good — certainly I never considered the idea of singing as a career. I wanted to grow up and get married and have a family, and that's what I did."

"Mom! Sing just a little of it!" Laurie begged.

"Yeah, Mom," Danny wheedled. "It's not like you're doing it on stage for anyone expecting the Partridge Family, or anything."

"Come on, Mom," Keith added. "We won't tell Reuben on you."

"Okay! Okay!" Shirley smiled. "But you'll probably think it's old fashioned, and remember, I'm no Dinah Shore!" She took a deep breath and began to let the inspirational, hopeful words of _You'll Never Walk Alone _flow from her lips.

As the song ended, Martha wiped away a tear, those sitting around the table started applauding madly, and Carolyn reached over and gave her friend a hug. "Thank you, Shirley," she sniffed. "I adore that song, even if it does make me cry."

"That was great, Mom," Keith added. "I'm going to have to start writing more solo parts for you."

"You didn't know your mom could sing quite like that, did you?" Carolyn grinned.

"I knew she could sing, I just didn't know that she could . . . SING," said Laurie. "I mean, not that way! That song takes almost a double range!"

"Real cool, Mom," said Danny.

"Beautiful," said the seaman. "Truly marvelous. But I must say, my dear, I cannot remember Candy playing any song that comes close to sounding like that."

"If the rest of your songs sound as good as that one, I may have to consider buying a copy of your album, myself," said Martha. "More coffee, anyone?" she asked, bringing the pot over to the table.

"Yes, please," both Carolyn and Shirley answered, and Keith held up his cup also. Carolyn watched her daughter's disappointed look — obviously she was hoping to do the coffee pouring for her idol — and silently, Carolyn wondered if they were in for a new siege of puppy love after all.

"Save some for me, Keith," Laurie commented. "Don't be a hog. And don't forget, you and Danny get to do the lunch dishes, since Candy and I did breakfast."

"Right . . . Right" Keith agreed. "But we need to get back to the bus, now that it's daylight and see what's up there, too, and get the rest of our equipment."

_Keith Partridge has to do dishes?_ Candy wondered silently to herself. _Wow . . ._

"I don't suppose the phones are working yet, Martha?" Shirley asked, hopefully

Martha shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid not. I've been checking every half-hour. It's the blasted . . . It's the snow. It happens at least once every winter, and this is it."

"I'm keeping my fingers crossed, Shirl," Carolyn said. "Last time we had no phones for more than two and a half days."

"Darn it," Shirley said. "I was really hoping I could call our family doctor — he could call in the prescription for Tracy — she's had this thing before. That, and I need to get a hold of my folks, they're expecting us."

"And Reuben," Danny chimed in.

"Why?" Laurie asked. "He's in Arizona, visiting his mom."

"I realize that, but he's our manager, and I think he ought to know," Danny answered.

"You're probably right," Laurie shrugged, "Even if there's not much he can do from there."

"No, but there's a lot we can do here," Keith said, standing. "Laurie, Danny, let's make a stab at getting back to the bus — and we can help Mrs. Muir get the front walk cleared."

"It's still snowing," Laurie objected.

"There's only one snow shovel, and three of us," Danny argued.

"We still need to at least TRY to clear the walks, and we can learn to share," he argued back. "Now come on."

"Keith is a good lad," the seaman commented. "Quite a commendable attitude! I'm really getting to like these show-business types more and more!"

"Candy, sweetie, why don't you go help Martha with the laundry?" Carolyn asked, watching her daughter watch Keith.

Candy sighed. "Okay, Mom." Sadly she looked at the three older Partridges, who were heading toward the door. Suddenly, shoveling snow seemed like a great way to pass the time.

**xxxxxxxx**

"Okay, that is definitely one broken axle." Keith shivered and looked around the table where Carolyn, Laurie, Danny, Martha, and Candy were seated. "I thought maybe I might be wrong, but I'm not. It will most definitely take a tow truck to get us out of there, and heaven only knows when that will happen because the drifts are up past the top of the bus's wheel wells." He clutched his coffee cup, warming his hands, and nodded toward the entryway. "We did get the last of the music equipment back here, though, and just for luck, I started the bus and let it run for a little while. The engine is fine — we even have a half a tank of gas left. We just can't go anywhere."

"We got the rest of our clothes and the speaker cords and things, too," Danny offered. "Everything's inside, now."

"We didn't do a very good job shoveling, though." Laurie ran her hands through her hair. "I'm really sorry, Mrs. . . . Carolyn, but shoveling is not nearly as easy as I thought it would be."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "It looks so basic on television — you know, you see the snow, and in the next scene the walks are all shoveled, and dry even. Come to think of it, you can't even tell where the snow from the walk went! On TV the yard area always looks perfect."

"The magic of television," Martha grinned. "I imagine you all haven't seen too much snow — being born and raised in California."

Keith shook his head again. "Practically never. I vaguely remember seeing it once, maybe but I was a kid. Younger than Tracy, even."

"I thought it was really nice of you to help us though," Candy said.

"Thanks, Candy," Keith said turning to her, and the little girl blushed again.

"The three of them did an admirable job, my dear," said Daniel Gregg, materializing into the kitchen. "You know, if they weren't here I could lend a hand in that, but with the house full of people, I don't dare chance it." Carolyn raised an eyebrow. "But before you ask, human or spirit, there is nothing I can do about their vehicle. I didn't cause the problem, so I cannot fix it. Rather like Gladys and Harvey, those honeymooners, or Tim Seagirt's . . . camper, he called it? . . . that was stuck in the wet sand on the beach. I caused the rain, but had no control over the vehicle being stuck."

Shirley Partridge came down to the kitchen — a worried frown on her face.

"How's Tracy, Mom?" Laurie asked, catching her mother's look.

"Still way too hot for comfort, as far as I am concerned," she said. "I read to her for a while, and she's dozing now, but I don't like her cough." She shook her head. "I wish I could get hold of Doctor Griffith."

Martha poured Shirley a cup of coffee. "No luck there, I'm afraid. The phones are still out."

Shirley shrugged. "Well, at least she is asleep at the moment. Where are Chris and Jonathan?"

"Watching TV and playing with Scruffy," Danny answered. "I looked right after we got back. No news on TV though. Too bad. I can't check the stock market reports, and I didn't even try to find a newspaper under all that snow out there." He pointed toward the kitchen window.

"You wouldn't have found one, anyway, Danny," Carolyn smiled. "We only get a little local paper here — once a week, and it came out last Thursday. What Mark Finley, the editor, knows about stocks wouldn't fill a thimble, anyway."

"What that pup knows about EVERYTHING wouldn't fill a thimble," the Captain snorted. And Carolyn coughed into her coffee cup.

"Okay, Carrie?" Shirley asked, patting her back.

"Fine . . ." Carolyn mumbled. "Something just went down the wrong pipe, that's all."

"Well, if you'll excuse me," said Keith, "I think I'll go check out the instruments — I'd like to make sure no snow made its way inside the cases. That, and those amps . . ." He broke off, shaking his head.

"I'll help, Keith," said Danny, also rising from his chair. "And then, maybe . . ." he looked at Carolyn, "Can Jonathan show me the rest of the house? He said you have an attic, with lots of stuff in it."

"Mrs. Muir, Carolyn, I . . ." The Captain started, but Carolyn cut him off.

"I'd rather you didn't go poking around up there," she said quickly. "There's a bunch of old things stored in the whee — attic, and I'm sure Cap . . . Mister Gregg doesn't want anything damaged."

"There's a LOT of old stuff around here, Mrs. Muir," Danny said. "Tell me, have you ever had all the furniture and things appraised? I mean, you have antiques here. And who's Mister Gregg? I thought you said he was a Captain."

"Mister Gregg is our landlord, Danny. He's a descendant of the Captain Gregg who built the house." And she shot Daniel Gregg a look that said, _"Don't even start."_

"DANNY," Keith said, looking embarrassed. "You ask too many questions." He grabbed his brother's arm. "Come with me and make yourself useful."

"But I have more ques. . ."

"LATER, Danny!" and on that note, Keith half dragged his brother out the door.

Shirley rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Carrie. Danny gets obsessive on anything related to the subject of money, and/or making a profit. I can't imagine where he gets it from. Not me, certainly!"

"Gotta admit though, Mom," said Laurie, "If Danny didn't have a talent for that kind of thing, we never would have been discovered, because none of the rest of us ever would have nailed down Reuben."

"That's all right," Carolyn grinned. "I should turn him loose on Claymore the next time my lease comes up for renewal. I have a feeling with Danny in charge of the negotiations, Claymore would end up paying me money!"

The Captain snapped his fingers. "Bravo, my dear! That's who the lad reminds me of! Claymore!"

Martha laughed at Carolyn's remark. "Actually, I was going to say that Danny reminds me of someone, too, but I can't think who — it's just this bothering feeling I've got. Claymore, yes, a lot, but someone else . . ."

"Danny Shoemaker," Candy said softly. "He LOOKS like Danny Shoemaker, except for his hair is a little longer, but his mom sure doesn't look like you, Mrs. . . . Shirley, I mean. Mrs. Shoemaker is well . . ." her voice trailed off. "Well, just kind of . . . but you're pretty, like my Mom. You two could be sisters!"

"Thank you, sweetie!" Carolyn grinned. "You know, Shirley and I DID use to pretend we were sisters, and we went through the whole routine — we'd call and see what the other was wearing the next day, do our homework over the phone together, spend the weekend at each other's houses . . . all those things."

"Don't forget lip-synching to Patti Page and Nat 'King' Cole!" Shirley added, her green eyes sparkling.

"And singing_ Rag Mop!" _Carolyn giggled. "My mother told me she didn't think we would EVER get tired of that one!"

"I loved that song!" Martha interjected. "I haven't thought of it in ages!" And the housekeeper struck a pose as she sang the old song, saucily.

The seaman silently applauded, and Martha looked around the kitchen. "Well, thanks to Laurie and Candy's help earlier, my kitchen is in order, but I still have laundry to put away, and some ironing to get done. Now, you two stay right here and catch up. There's plenty of coffee on the stove if you want it, and if I need anything, I'll grab one of the kids." And she bustled out of the room.

Laurie rose from the table. "I think I'll excuse myself too — I just remembered I left my sleeping bag and stuff all over the living room couch. Martha shouldn't have to pick up for me. I'll just roll everything up and put it in the alcove . . ." She looked at her mother. "Sorry, Mom, Carolyn. I didn't mean to be a slob."

"Hardly that, my dear young lady!" said the Captain. "A charming young girl, Carolyn! Delightful manners!"

"You can move your stuff upstairs to my room, if you WANT to," said Candy, looking eager. "I have lots of space in there, now that Jonathan moved to the spare room. You'd get your own bed, and everything." The little girl suddenly looked doubtful. "You don't mind sharing a room with me, do you?"

"Are you kidding?" Laurie grinned, "Of course not! You know . . ." she added, throwing an arm around the younger girl's shoulders, " . . . that was the only thing wrong with last night. Not having a younger sister with me. I share a room with Tracy, at home. I should be asking you! You're sure you don't mind?"

"Golly, no!" Candy's blue eyes grew wide. "I can't WAIT to tell everyone you stayed in MY room!" And with that, she grabbed Laurie's hand, and dragged her toward the door.

"All right! I'm coming!" Laurie laughed. "Later, Mom! Bye, Carolyn!" As they started out the door, Carolyn heard Laurie ask Candy if she could draw Captain Gregg's portrait, and she watched the seaman's self-  
satisfied smile as he disappeared.

**xxxxxxxx**

The snow continued to fall all of that morning. Carolyn and Shirley spent the next few hours exchanging stories, gossiping, as old friends will do after a long time apart, and checking the status of the phone lines from time to time, but otherwise relaxing — pausing once or twice to answer a question for Danny, Chris or Jonathan, who were also getting to know each other, and twice to check on Tracy, who had woken up, calling for her mother, and once long enough for Shirley to listen to a new guitar riff from Keith, who was trying to work on a song. This last caught the younger boys' attention — Jonathan, demanding to know how long he had been playing the guitar, and Danny and Chris, who wanted to know when the new song would be finished. Keith responded with "You can't rush greatness," and the boys moaned and departed for the living room, Chris and Danny making remarks about 'know-it-all-older brothers.' Laurie and Candy were in Candy's room, chatting as only girls can.

Daniel Gregg, barred from his regular activities, given the weather and the heavy activity at Gull Cottage, spent some time in the wheelhouse, working on his sea charts, using some new information Carolyn had gathered from the public library. When he reached what Carolyn called "a good stopping point," he stretched, more from habit than from actually needing to, and looked around the attic. His eyes rested on the model that he had Jonathan had started the week before, and he wished, sadly, that the boy were there with him. _Selfish, Daniel_, he said to himself. _The lads are having a good time. You managed for more than a hundred years with hardly any human contact at all, a few days shouldn't bother you, and they are a nice bunch of people. _Restless, he dematerialized, and reappeared on the balcony outside the master cabin. _Change in scene, Daniel! That's what YOU need. The weather is of no consequence to you, after all. _A whimpering sound came from inside, and Daniel cocked his head. _Ah, yes, the little girl . . . Tracy._ He dematerialized and rematerialized at the side of the bed. _Sweet little thing. I wonder what . . . Ah, here's the problem. She's kicked her covers off. Well, I'll just save Mrs. Partridge a trip._ Carefully he reached for the tangled covers, and with a flick of his wrist, straightened them and started to flip them back neatly over Tracy.

Tracy's eyelids fluttered and opened. "Hi," she said, sleepily.

"Hello, Tracy," he answered. "Tracy, you can see me?" _Why? _he wondered.

"'Course," she said, a fretful tone in her voice. "You came back."

"Yes," the seaman said solemnly, slightly nonplused at the child's reaction. Not the normal one, upon seeing a ghost, to be sure.

"Where have you been?" she asked. "I've been waiting."

"I've been . . . busy," the seaman said, for lack of another explanation.

"Oh. But you came back, and I'm glad," she said, looking the teeniest bit more alert.

"I'm glad to see you again, too, Tracy," Daniel said, keeping his voice level.

"Are you an angel?" Tracy asked, almost conversationally "Are you here to help me 'cause I don't feel good?"

Startled, the Captain finished covering the child. _I wonder what Martha would think of ME being called an angel? Likely as not she'd say Fallen Angel! _"No, I'm . . . Captain Daniel Gregg, Tracy."

"And you're an angel." It was a statement, more than a question now.

"No, Tracy. I'm not an angel. I'm a ghost," he said, deciding that the child could handle the news.

"You don't look like a ghost. Ghosts look like Casper."

"Casper?"

"Casper, the Friendly Ghost. You know, he's white, and looks like a sheet flying around, but he has eyes and a nice face. Can you fly around?"

She seaman shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I'm not that kind of spirit."

"That's okay," She rubbed her eyes. "But you're really a ghost?"

"Yes, I really am. See?" Not wanting to walk through a wall and leave the child alone, he sunk slowly into the floor, leaving only his upper half-visible, and then levitated himself again.

"That's neat," Tracy said solemnly. "You're a ghost, all right."

"Tracy," the seaman said gently, squatting down by the bed, and looking at the little girl in the eye. "Tracy, my dear, I don't know why you can see me, but I think it would be better if my coming here today stays between you and me."

"Why?" Tracy asked. "Aren't you coming to see me again?"

"I might, if you like my company," he said. "But I am not sure your mother would understand ghosts. Maybe we shouldn't say anything to her about me at the moment. We don't want to worry her. Would that be . . .?" He grasped for the right word. "Would that be okay with you?"

"Okay," said Tracy, snuggling back down in the covers. "It can be a secret."

"Fine, Tracy."

"I'm thirsty," she sighed.

"One moment." The Captain disappeared and reappeared a moment later with a glass of ice water. "Here you are, my dear."

"Thank you." Tracy sat up again and took the water carefully. "Hmm. That tastes good . . ." Yawning, the child handed the spirit the glass and curled under the covers again.

"Sweet dreams, Tracy, my dear." The seafarer gave the sleeping child a thoughtful look, and then vanished.

_**END PART ONE**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Title: It Happened One Christmas**_

_**Author: Mary**_

_**Rating: PG**_

_**Summary: One ghost, three Muirs, One housekeeper, one dog, six Partridges, not in a Monkey-Puzzle Tree, but stranded at Gull Cottage over Christmas. A Ghost and Mrs. Muir/Partridge Family Crossover.**_

_**Part Two**_

**December 23rd Mid afternoon**

After a noisy, leisurely lunch (Martha made a triple batch of Red Flannel Hash) Carolyn checked again. The phones were still out. Shirley looked out the windows and sighed. It was still snowing, but the thermometer outside indicated the temperature had actually gone up by a couple of degrees. Martha mentioned that the radio announcer had said that the snow wasn't due to stop completely until the end of the day, at which point the temperature would drop again.

In spite of all the excitement, the children were getting a slight case of cabin fever already — hers, especially. Jonathan and Danny bundled up long enough to go outside to dump the trash for Martha. They came back in, maintaining the wind wasn't blowing nearly as much, and they wanted to go outside and play. After getting permission, the younger children, Candy, Jonathan, Danny, and Chris, bundled up and went outside to walk around. Shirley remembered to take some pictures of her children, wading hip deep in the snow, and, after a little prodding, Keith, Laurie, Shirley and Carolyn joined them for a brief snowball fight, Jonathan laughing the hardest when Danny managed to nail Keith with a face full of powder, much to Candy's embarrassment. Keith, to his credit, rebounded nicely, and after twenty minutes more, Martha called them inside — tempting them with hot cider and cocoa. There were a few parting shots, and the refs, Shirley and Carolyn, declared Keith, Laurie and Candy's team the winner. Muttering within the ranks about retaliation could be heard, and there was talk about another snowball fight and a chance to get even the next day.

Daniel watched the children play in the snow — wishing with all his might that he could join the merry group. In spite of his ghostly status, he, Candy, Jonathan and Carolyn, once in a great while, even Martha, had managed snowball fights the previous winters; one of the family usually playing ref and counting snowballs going THROUGH him as much of a hit as a wet snowball would be actually hitting one of the Muir family.

He checked the clock on the wall of the attic. Well, they would be in soon. As much as he liked these boarders, he just didn't see himself popping in and introducing himself, like he lived down the road a piece. A wistful feeling crept over him in spite of himself, and he thought of the little girl again. Tracy. Blast, that little one gets under your skin, he thought. I'd hate to see anything happen to anyone while they are aboard this vessel. She's a nice little thing. I didn't get to see Candy at that age. I wonder how she is doing? He had checked on her earlier . . . several times, actually. Once she had been sound asleep, and once she had been awake, but her mother had been with her, and Tracy had been saying something about him, he thought. He couldn't get too close, for fear of her seeing him again, and mentioning his presence to her mother. Mrs. Partridge already looked worried and there was no sense making things worse.

The third time he looked in, however, she was awake, fretful, coughing, and alone. Unable to resist her whimpers, he popped in with another glass of water, and adjusted the towel around her neck, still smelling heavily of the vapor rub they had smeared on her little chest, and they had another lovely talk — ending with him insisting gently she needed to get more rest. He had lulled her to sleep with a tale about how he had rescued a young native boy, "just around your age, my dear," from an alligator. "In Florida, it was. Eighteen fifty-nine, I believe. The lad's father was so grateful to me, I was permanently inducted into his tribe and made the boy's honorary uncle — with all the rights and privileges thereof."

Tracy finally dropped off, and, after pacing the attic for a while, Daniel admitted, if only to himself that he was lonely — bored, rather. He materialized in the living room, invisible to all, and listened to all the people on his 'ship,' picking up scraps of conversation. Candy and the other children were just finishing a game of Monopoly — Shirley and Carolyn even joining in on the fun. Danny had just finished raking everyone over the coals, and gloating. His siblings, used to his behavior with anything remotely concerning money, merely rolled their eyes and did their best to ignore him, but Jonathan made a comment that playing with Danny was like playing with Claymore, and that he really preferred Chinese Checkers.

That led to Carolyn and family telling the Partridges about the time their landlord had been stuck at Gull Cottage in traction for a month, one week. "And what was really ironic," said Carolyn, "is after a week of Martha's gourmet meals, and all of us catering to his every whim, I finally realized AFTER he left that while he could sue me, because anyone can sue anyone, he would most likely never collect a dime because he was my landlord and he owned the house where the faulty door lock was to begin with!"

"I know what you mean," Danny nodded. "Someone tried to sue us once too, when they realized we were in show business."

"Oddly enough, we won him over with kindness also!" said Laurie. "I wish all disagreements and wars could be solved that way, instead of with battles and protest marches and sit-ins. Think they ever will be?"

"That, my dear girl, is the age old question," commented the captain, invisibly.

"Loser puts the game away," said Danny, getting up and stretching. "You know, this house is really great, Aunt Carolyn, and the antiques are the most. You think your landlord knows what he has here? If he doesn't, don't tell him. You know, if you had an extra five hundred dollars, I could manage it for you. Invest it in the stock market. Why, in no time at all, I bet I could parlay it into a fortune and you could buy this place lock stock and barrel. And not only that, but . . ."

"Danny, stop," pleaded Shirley. "No get-rich-quick-schemes right now, please."

"Yeah," Keith commented, also getting up. "Sometimes, you're a real know-it-all — do you realize that?"

"I handle my allowance better that YOU do, Keith," Danny answered back swiftly.

"Have you ever heard the expression, If we had ham, we could have ham and eggs, if we had eggs?" Carolyn asked with a smile. "I appreciate the offer, Danny, but I don't happen to have an extra five-hundred dollars right now — especially as money I could afford to lose, and I doubt if Claymore would sell me the place anyway."

"You sound like mom," said Danny, "The ham and eggs thing. I hear that all the time from her. But I bet I could convince this landlord of yours."

"And, given the right opportunity, I bet I could too, Danny," the seaman said silently. "But I think it would be more interesting to see YOU have a go at the barnacle!"

Shrugging, Danny, Chris and Jonathan excused themselves to go upstairs and take a look at the models Jonathan had built. Laurie picked up her sketchbook; anxious to get back to the drawing she was working on of the Captain's portrait — Candy observing her. Laurie frowned. "I just can't get the perspective right, Candy," she said, frustrated. "He keeps coming out flat."

"That's 'cause you're drawing a drawing," Candy offered. "My art teacher said if you draw a figure, a person, even a pretend person, you have to think of them as real — believe they are a real person." Looking at the portrait, fondly, she added, "I didn't used to . . . think of the Captain as being real . . . or that he used to be real, I mean, but I do now." She stood up, walked toward the fireplace, stood on the stool that was there and touched the painting of the sea captain on the chin. "I mean, can't you just see him standing here, in front of this fireplace — building a fire, getting his hands warm, or maybe reading a book on the couch? He lived here for a long time, I think, before he died. He built this place. He's . . . His presence is all over this house. Just think about him living here. He's very alive to me, and when he comes alive for you, you will be able to draw him with no problem at all. I think Captain Gregg is cool. I can't imagine this house without him. He's part of what makes Gull Cottage a home for me."

Laurie Partridge's eyes lit up and she turned over a new page in her sketch pad — starting again. The seaman stared at the little girl, who had now stepped down from the stool and reached for a book. I'm real to her? He felt a prickle in his eyes, almost like tears, but of course such a thing was not possible. She's never called me real before . . . except a real ghost. When did her feelings change? Touched beyond speech, he moved himself first to where Keith was still scribbling away on his song, and then to where Shirley and Carolyn were now seated — drinking coffee.

"Looks like BOTH our daughters have a crush on that seaman of yours," Shirley grinned. "I must admit that he is one magnificent example of the male species! Ever wonder what the real man was like?"

Carolyn smiled. "Seaman of mine?" She nodded. "I've often wondered what kind of a person he would be if he were alive now — what he would do for a living, as a modern man, what kind of woman he would really want, what his children would be like . . ." She shook her head and wondered if Daniel was hearing anything of what was being said about him. "Speaking of crushes, remember Blair Thompson?"

"Blair?" Shirley started. "I haven't thought of him in ages. I do remember I had a horrid crush on him, though. When was that? About halfway through ninth grade? He never gave me the time of day and eventually, I got over him."

"About," Carolyn agreed.

"Mom!" Laurie said, and she and Candy looked up from Laurie's sketching. "You had a crush?"

"Naturally," Shirley laughed. "More than one! I used to fall into puppy love, too! Whatever happened to Blair?" Shirley asked.

"Oh, that I can tell you!" Carolyn smiled again. "I saw him, oh, maybe a year-and-a-half ago. I forgot — guess I didn't tell you, but we did date briefly in high school."

Candy turned to her mother in astonishment. "Mom! You DATED him? I thought you were just friends or something . . . yuck! He doesn't seem like your type at all!"

"I didn't MARRY him, Candy!" Carolyn explained patiently. "And that's what part of dating is about — to get to know people!"

"Nicely said, my dear! " The Captain nodded, still invisible to all eyes in the room.

"So what became of good old Blair?" Shirley asked. "Running his father's holdings, or something in Philly?"

Carolyn shrugged. "Actually, when I saw him last, he was still traveling around on his yacht, doing very little, or nothing at all. He did dock here for a day or two, and proposed to me every hour on the hour."

"MOMMY!" Candy interrupted again, and went over to her mother. "You never told me that!"

"I didn't tell you because I saw no reason to, Candy." Carolyn gave her daughter's short blonde hair a stroke. "I had no intention of accepting him."

"Why-ever not?" Laurie asked. "If he was a lost love or whatever . . ."

"Because Blair only wanted to marry me because I never wanted to marry him," Carolyn said. "The minute I told him I would marry him, which I never would have really done, I know better, he backed down."

"Men can be so strange," Laurie rolled her eyes and looked at Candy. "I guess we still have a few things left to figure out!"

"The story gets stranger still," Carolyn continued.

"What?" Shirley asked. "Did Blair come back and say he was ready to marry you after all?"

"Hardly," Carolyn giggled. "I got a letter from him about six months ago." The Captain raised his eyebrows and looked tense. "It seems he sold his yacht, and bought a sports car. Some really new kind . . . what was it? Not a Jaguar . . . A Trans-Am, I think . . . and he said he was thinking about going to New York and using his father's connections to break into acting."

"Blair?" Shirley chuckled. "I can't see it! That guy was a born sophisticate — even in ninth grade. Part of the reason I was temporarily smitten by him."

"Yes, Blair! He even said that he was taking voice and music lessons!"

Martha bustled into the room, picking up on the last of the conversation. "Mr. Thompson?" She chuckled. "Well, I might pay to see him as a one time novelty act . . . Broadway? Naa! Care to help me for a few minutes you two? Laurie? Candy?" She nodded in Carolyn and Shirley's direction. "Dinner should be ready shortly. I'll call when everything is on the table." She looked toward the kitchen. "I am incredibly grateful we do have power, even if we don't have telephone service." And with that comment, she made her way back toward the kitchen.

After Candy and Laurie had finished setting the kitchen table and an extra card table for supper, Martha left to put some laundry away upstairs, and Candy sat down at the kitchen table and watched Laurie start another sketch of the kitchen stove. When she asked Laurie "why the stove of all things?" Laurie replied briefly: "Still life — one of my road assignments for art class. I'm supposed to pick still life subjects besides bowls of fruit, and draw them."

"Oh," Candy replied.

"You look upset," Laurie commented, looking at the younger child again. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Sure there is. Has Danny been bothering you, or anything?"

Candy shook her head. "Oh, no, it's not Danny."

"What then?"

"Laurie, do you think Keith likes me?"

The second oldest Partridge sighed, choosing her words carefully. "What makes you think he might not?"

Candy bit her thumbnail and stared off into space. "I dunno — I guess, well, I was hoping he might. After I acted like such a doof this morning, I've been trying to make it better — not seem like such a drip. I brought him coffee, and cookies and stuff after he finished shoveling snow, and more while he's been working on his song, and . . ." She shrugged. "He's been nice, but I guess he can't forget I called him Martha. He really thinks I'm a creep, huh?"

"Naa," Laurie shook her head and put down her sketchpad. "Keith can be a pain sometimes, but I know he doesn't think you're a creep — I mean, you didn't know he'd be there in the kitchen. You made a perfectly natural mistake. Keith knows that."

"You think so? You think he likes me?"

"Of course he likes you. He told me he thinks you and Jonathan are great kids."

"Kids." A disappointed look came to Candy's china blue eyes. "Oh. Does Keith have a girlfriend?" she asked, bravely.

"Oh, yeah." She grinned. "I'm his sister, so you can't tell him this, but I always thought he was a fairly good looking guy, for being my brother, but now, because of our group and stuff, the girls won't leave him alone. They even call ME and ask what they can do to make Keith like them."

"I guess he'd never be interested in someone like me," Candy said, her voice even lower. " I bet he thinks I'm a baby. Blast. I did just turn ten!"

"Well, maybe you are a hair young for him — but cheer up. When you are twenty and he is twenty-six, a gap like that isn't big at all — it's just your timing that's off! Danny thinks you're cute, though."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I heard him tell Chris he thought you were, but then he said he would punch him if he said anything."

"Danny?" Candy made a face. "Uh, no offense, but, well . . ."

"Not your type, huh? Well, tastes change. My first boyfriend was someone I used to play mud pies with."

"Do you have a boyfriend now?" Candy asked, perking up. "Have you had a lot of boyfriends? Do they come and watch you sing?"

"No boyfriend at the moment!" Laurie smiled. "Lots? Well some, I wouldn't say LOTS — But three or four have come to see me sing — I can usually sneak them into the local concerts, backstage, or something. Keith does that with an occasional girlfriend too."

"You get to wear makeup." Candy continued. "My mom won't let me yet." She sighed. "It would make me look more grownup, I think. When did your mom let you start wearing makeup?" Her mind wandered back to the teen idol in the alcove. "Does Keith like makeup on girls he dates?"

Laurie smiled again. "Let's see. I think I was just a little older than you were when Mom let me start wearing lipstick — and then just for really special occasions. I think I was thirteen-and-a-half before she gave in on eye shadow, again for special occasions only, and in was only last year she said a little mascara would be all right. She still thinks I'm too young for foundation and stuff like that, and you know, she's right. My health teacher said it's better for teenagers to use as little makeup as possible because of all the problems we can have with our skin!"

"I know this guy who thought I was a boy once," Candy said, thinking of Mark Helmore. "You don't think I look like a boy, do you? I've been letting my hair grow. Last time I tried to wear makeup, it didn't turn out too well."

"Of course you don't look like a boy! Everyone needs to develop their own style, though," said Laurie. "You can't go by what your friends are doing! Tell you what . . ." the older girl thought for a moment. "Let's go ask your mom if I can show you a little bit about it — makeup, I mean."

"Really?" Candy looked pleased, and privately Laurie thought that the little girls' happy face was perfect as it was.

"Sure. And if your mom says yes, we can do it tonight, or tomorrow maybe." Laurie sniffed. "Right now though, I'd say Martha's meatloaf is just about done! Let's tell her, and then go see if Tracy is awake and feels like eating dinner."

xxxxxxxx

During supper, Shirley kept looking at her eldest son. It was obvious to her that Keith was nervous and distracted. At first she wondered if he was just preoccupied about the song he was writing that he seemed to have a mental block on, but finally when Carolyn glanced at the young man, also noticing Keith's attitude, and telegraphed her concern to Shirley, and his mother wordlessly indicated that she had had enough.

"Keith?" she said softly, "I think we'll try a new arrangement of April Love for that concert we have scheduled at the end of January."

"Sure, Mom." he answered, and stirred his coffee for the third time in as many minutes. "Sounds good."

"ARE YOU KIDDING?" Danny blurted out. "Mom!" He threw a balled up paper napkin at his brother, hitting him on the side of the head. Shirley gave Danny a frown, and he was instantly apologetic. "Sorry, Mom! Sorry, Aunt Carolyn! Keith! April Love? Sheesh! Pay attention, or we'll end up back in the garage!"

The missile from Danny seemed to bring Keith back to the present. "Mom, we can't sing that song — royalties, remember? That's why I write our songs. It's cheaper, and we get the record profits. That's how lots of—"

"Relax, Keith!" Shirley smiled. "I was only teasing!" She gave him a look. "I was just trying to get your attention. You're just not with us tonight. Anything wrong? Still working on that new song?"

Keith shrugged. "It's coming along okay. I have the tune; I'm just having trouble with the lyrics. Nothing wants to jibe," he paused and looked around the table, his eyes resting on Carolyn.

"Anything we can help with?" she asked. "I've never written any poetry, but . . ." her voice trailed off thinking of the song Daniel had written for her, and she hoped she wasn't blushing.

"Oh, no, that's all right." Keith helped himself to a bit more mashed potatoes. "I was just thinking about our instruments and things."

"I thought you got them all inside?" Candy asked from the 'children's table,' wishing she were at the adult one.

"We did," Keith answered. "And they all look okay, but I'd still like to test them, and I'm worried about us, too — staying in practice, I mean. As a group, we shouldn't let our voices get out of tune any more than we should have let our instruments stay in that freezing bus."

"You mean you want to practice here?" Carolyn asked.

"Right," he nodded. "I hate to be any more of an imposition than we have been already, but would it be all right if we set up our instruments and things in the living room and practiced there for a little while, tonight?"

"MOM!" Candy jumped out of her seat, knocking her chair over backwards. "Please?" She looked at Martha, seeking her approval also for what she had, in the past referred to as 'noise,' and then at Shirley. "You really mean it? You want to play here, in our house?"

"Hurray!" Jonathan interrupted. "Mom, can they? Chris has been telling me about his drums. I really want to see those. Please?"

"Well . . ." A doubtful look appeared on Carolyn's lovely face for a split second, and she wondered how Daniel would feel about 'modern music,' but erased itself as he appeared only to her eyes, nodding his head.

"As I believe I mentioned before, my dear, I am most curious to hear these people perform!" He gave her a resigned glance. "Yes, I know Candy has played her record over and over, but that's usually in her bedroom, more often than not, and I am afraid that after thirty-two playings in a single afternoon of . . . I Think I Love You, is it? . . . I have more or less learned to tune them out."

"We could skip hooking up a couple of amps, if you are concerned about the volume," Danny offered.

"Good idea," said Laurie. "Actually, we don't play that loud, for musicians that is, but in an older house like this, there's no sense taking a chance cracking the plaster, either."

"Please, Mom?" Candy begged.

Carolyn smiled. "Fine with me! To tell the truth, I've been sort of hoping you would sing here somewhere along the line, but I also realized you're on vacation — and a rather unplanned one at that. And since singing is your 'job,' so to speak, I didn't want to make any demands. It would be rather like someone walking up to a doctor or lawyer at a dinner party and asking for free advice." And she turned back to Shirley. "Do you need extension cords, or anything?"

"No, I don't think so," her friend responded. "Just tell us where you want us."

"Cool!" Her daughter's eyes sparkled. "May I be excused please?" Carolyn nodded, and the girl was off.

"Where's she going? Chris asked Jonathan, softly. They were still sitting at the card table, talking away like they had known each other all their lives.

"Probably wants to go get her tambourine, or something," Jonathan said wisely. "She always has it with her when she listens to you guys. Only time she doesn't if we are in the car and one of your songs comes on the radio."

"Girls do the strangest things," Chris agreed. "Laurie conducts music — you know, like an orchestra leader, when she thinks no one is looking, and Tracy is love with Bobby Sherman."

"Candy's always getting goofy over some boy," Jonathan agreed. "A few months ago it was this new kid at school, but lately it's been singers — including your brother!"

"You said it," agreed Chris. "Some of the girls that are crazy about Keith do some pretty strange things to try and meet him, too."

"Tracy . . ." A concerned look came to the seaman's face, and he disappeared. After taking a look inside the master cabin where he could see the little girl finally beginning to stir, he materialized at the door of Candy's bedroom, where she was coming out, with, as Jonathan had guessed, her tambourine.

"Hi, Captain!" Candy almost gave the seaman a hug, she was so excited, but she remembered just in time that it was impossible. "Did you hear? The Partridges are going to play for us!" She gave him a grateful look. "Thanks for not thundering, or anything."

"I'm looking forward to it," he smiled. "Candy, can you do me a big favor?"

"Sure, Captain!" she grinned. "You don't ask me THAT very often! What do you need? Do you want their autograph, or something?"

"No, my dear," he smiled. "But I did just check on Tracy. I believe she is awake, and grumpy, as we all get when we are sick, and I am sure she would appreciate the opportunity for a change of scene."

Candy nodded. "I understand, Captain. Being sick is no way to spend Christmas. I'd be grumpy too."

"Right," the seaman agreed, picking up on Candy's vernacular. "And I am sure Tracy would like to be with the rest of her family while they practice, even if she cannot practice herself." Candy nodded again, agreeably. "Now, I can't very well pop her downstairs to be with her family, but you can." He chuckled. "Could you go into your mother's room and see how she is doing and then take her back downstairs with you? That way she can get a little something to eat, and I'm sure Mrs. Partridge would appreciate your help."

"Sure, Captain — I'll take care of her!" Candy turned and headed toward the master bedroom, but then she turned back around and faced the seaman. "I think it's too bad though."

Daniel looked surprised. "That you have to take care of her?"

Candy shook her head. "No, Captain! That you can't pop downstairs with her! I bet the Partridges would love to meet you! Laurie especially. I sure wish you could! I'd love to show off the REAL you!" And with that remark, she reached the door of the master cabin, and had opened it, and a few minutes later, Daniel watched as the two girls made their way downstairs to the living room.

xxxxxxxx

In practically no time at all, Shirley had managed to get some more buttered toast and a bit of meatloaf down Tracy — this last accomplished because Carolyn allowed her the added treat of eating in the living room. That and more ginger-ale seemed to perk the child up a little, but Daniel heard Shirley whisper to Carolyn that she was still concerned about the child's temperature — that while it was not near danger level, especially for children, it hadn't gone down any either.

Now the entire crew was in the living room — either setting up instruments or watching them being set up, which was almost as interesting. Tracy was still awake, but a little dopey, and curled up with Carolyn under the afghan on the couch. Candy was seated on the other side of the couch and Jonathan on the floor in front. Scruffy, sensing something important, hadn't tried to play with the instrument cords, but instead had placed himself at Carolyn's feet, near Jonathan.

"You probably won't get quite the full effect of our sound here," Shirley was saying. "Candy, don't be too surprised if we sound different than your record. Studio recordings are different than live recordings and even 'live' sounds different on a record than sitting in a auditorium, or in this case a living room does."

"Are you kidding, Mrs. . . . Shirley? I can't believe you really want me to call you that!" Candy answered. "I know you'll sound wonderful! The only drag about this whole thing is I can't call anybody and let them know you are STAYING here!"

"Always nice to be welcome!" Shirley grinned and then looked at her younger daughter, curled up with Carolyn. "And of course, I'm missing Tracy's tambourine already!" She glanced at the one Candy was holding. "You know, once we get cooking here, you are more than welcome to play yours, Candy. Laurie says you practice to our records, and really, we're used to it. We've done a few concerts at hospitals for the sick kids, and we always do a number or two where the kids can 'play' along with us."

Candy turned red. "Oh, I couldn't possibly!" And she placed the tambourine on her lap, clasping her hands over it. "I'm just used to holding it when I listen to you guys. I'm not that good."

Shirley didn't press. "Well, feel free to play if you want to. I'm sure you would be fine!"

"I think you would do splendidly, my dear," came the invisible voice of Captain Gregg in Candy's ear, and to the unsuspecting eye, she turned a pretty pink for no reason at all.

Martha watched the musicians from her chair as they continued setting up their instruments, now adding a couple of small speakers. "We did have an entertainer stay overnight here once before."

"Oh really? Who?" Keith asked. "Just curious. I thought we were your first."

"He was a fairly new singer — just starting out." Carolyn answered. "I'm afraid I am, or haven't been up until now, a frequent listener of the top forty stations," she said, apologetically. "A fact I plan to try and remedy in the future. But I did think he had a nice voice. His name was Tim Seagirt. He played one I just loved." She smiled a reminiscent smile.

"Thank-you . . . Carolyn." The seaman's voice came again, not making the 'doggerel' comment about the words he had written as he usually did.

"You're kidding . . . Tim?" Keith grinned. "We played a double bill with him in LA about a month ago. He pulls in a large audience. Great guy! You really DON'T listen to rock stations, do you? Tim's had THREE songs in the top forty! _Without Her, Everybody's Talkin_, but my favorite so far is _If Only —_ " Keith strummed a few bars of the song Carolyn loved. "I remember he told me he only wrote the music for that one — normally he writes both, like I do. But in that case, he said he found the words somewhere, but I never did find out WHERE. Wish I could, though. I loved them . . . absolutely haunting! And so sad! I've never forgotten them. I hope someday I can write words that are as deep and loving as those are."

Carolyn flushed — thinking of the day she first heard them, and what Daniel said: You'll be hearing the young man's voice . . . but my thoughts . . ."

"Carolyn?" Shirley's voice brought her out of her reverie. "Are you all right? Your face is turning red."

"Me?" Carolyn jumped. "Oh, I'm fine — just a little warm, I guess." Hastily, Carolyn adjusted the afghan so more of it fell on Tracy.

"No need to blush, my dear, although it does become you!" came Captain Gregg's silky voice, as he appeared beside her. "No worries, dear lady. No one can hear or see me, except you, at the moment."

Carolyn looked away, suddenly shy, but there was a soft smile on her face, and Tracy, cuddling with Carolyn, gave the Captain a small wave hello, which no one noticed except the seaman, who waved back.

Waiting for her brothers to finish setting up, Laurie stared up at the portrait of Captain Gregg. "I wonder what HE would think of all us?" she wondered aloud. " I've heard that actors and show-business types weren't nearly as well received a hundred years ago as they are now! I think it would be groovy to be able to play something for him in HIS time! Like this, maybe . . . " Laurie flipped a switch on her keyboard, and struck a chord, and suddenly the sound changed from a piano to a harpsichord. "There, that's better," Laurie murmured. "Of course," she added, "I think he would appreciate me more in a long lace dress, but maybe he could learn to live with blue jeans!" Carefully, she started playing an old-English sounding version of _I Saw Three Ships_ — transposing the key signature for each verse.

"My word!" The Captain applauded softly, "It's been ages since I heard that!"

"Mrs. Muir . . . " Martha leaned over from her chair and whispered. "Are you sure none of these kids can hear or see the Captain? Laurie couldn't please that old sea dog more if she knew he was here!"

"Martha . . . " the housekeeper suddenly heard the Captain's voice in her ear, and she realized he was there, next to her, and near Tracy and Carolyn. "I AM pleased. Laurie is playing it beautifully, and no, I am quite sure the young lady cannot hear or see me! It is nice to know that SOME people still have respect for the older generation, however!"

Laurie finished the piece and bowed when Carolyn, Shirley, Candy and Jonathan, Chris and Tracy applauded — brothers Danny and Keith joining in. "Nice," said Keith, now leaning over his sister's shoulder. "And no sheet music, either! I keep forgetting you know how to play stuff like that."

"It's the atmosphere," said Laurie. "The tune seems to belong here."

"No truer words spoken," the Captain chuckled. "More accurate than you can ever know, my dear!"

"Well, I don't think you, 'Miss Liberated Woman' would take well to living in the eighteen sixties," Keith argued. "Not much in the way of women's rights back then!"

Laurie punched her brother. "With that sea captain around, I could force myself to get along without them."

"As I have said before, dear lady, you see what a treasure you have in me?" said Daniel to Carolyn, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Only as much as you have in ME!" Carolyn whispered back.

"Quite so, my dear!" the seaman grinned. "Quite so!"

"Knock it off, you two," Shirley smiled, speaking to Laurie and Keith. She tapped the side of her music stand. "If we're going to practice, let's get started."

Tracy, cuddled closer to Carolyn, but then looked directly toward Daniel Gregg. "I hope you like our music, Captain!" she said sadly. "I wish you could see me play, but mommy said I need to stay with Carolyn and stay warm."

"It's quite all right, little one." The Captain looked at her soberly. "I'm sure you play the tambourine beautifully." Satisfied, Tracy turned her attention back toward her family.

Carolyn and Martha turned a sideways glance toward the seaman. "Tracy can still SEE you?" Carolyn whispered.

"Aye, my dear," The seaman shrugged. "I am not MAKING myself visible to her, but it seems she can see me whenever I make myself visible to any other humans — as in right now, with you and Martha. She saw me earlier today when I was passing through the master cabin, as well. I think it has to do with her fever. I'm not quite sure. I think what is MOST important, however, is she isn't afraid of me. Not one iota." Carolyn caught the trace of a relieved look on the specter's face. "Isn't that so, Tracy?" and he put his finger to his lips, reminding, the little girl again of their 'secret.' "Ah. I think the Partridges are ready to start."

And start they did — With a Christmas medley from the concert tour they had just finished. Early on, Keith, who seemed to be the director, as well as the lead singer, did make a few stops, commenting that the pace was either too fast or too slow, and once to say that Danny's bass guitar sounded flat (it was). He stopped again to ask his mother who was singing lead soprano and filling in for Tracy, if she could switch tambourines, as the timbre of the one she was using seemed off, and once more to adjust the speakers — this last when he saw that the mast of one of the Captain's model ships in the living room was vibrating.

"Oops," he commented. "Sorry — we have to do this at home, too. Every time we come home from the road and go back to practicing in the garage."

Candy giggled. "You'd have LOTS of fun singing here! You could be as loud as you want. We're two miles from town, and there's nobody around here, except us, and I know I won't complain!"

"You and the kids really live out here all alone?" Shirley asked, "With no one for miles around?" She shuddered, a bit.

Carolyn glanced at Captain Gregg. "Well — it's not really lonely," and she smiled "We did have a neighbor fairly close at one time, but Mr. Hampton moved a little while back. "He did find it rather lonesome."

"And good riddance to the pill-popper," the Captain said, briefly. Looking back toward the Partridge family, who was busy discussing their next set, "They're a bit loud, but they seemed to have fixed the problem, and I like their 'sound,' as Candy says," the Captain invisibly commented to Carolyn. "I especially like that tune that Keith said he wrote..." He smiled. "It really does sound like a verse you'd expect to find on a Christmas card, and the tune is quite catchy." He popped over to Keith's music stand and then back to where he had been standing a moment earlier. "I see the young man wrote that piece — although not the other Christmas songs, of course! I've had a delightful time. I certainly hope you can talk them into playing again before they leave."

"Well, you've fixed the problem," Carolyn said to Keith for Daniel's benefit. "And I really liked the one you soloed, Shirley — _The Christmas Song_ is one of my favorites."

"All your songs were great," said Martha. "Thank you so much for sharing them with us."

"Looks like your musical instruments and equipment stood up to the cold well," Carolyn added, and she started to stand.

"Where are you going?" Shirley asked, puzzled.

"Yeah," Keith added. "The rehearsing driving you nuts already?"

"You aren't done?" Carolyn asked, "I thought . . ."

"Oh, no!" Shirley laughed. "Our rehearsals usually last at least forty five minutes — normally more like an hour, although I DO need to get Tracy tucked in . . ."

"I'm not ready for bed yet, Tracy whimpered. "I've been in bed all day and the only fun I've had is when the Ca . . ."

Daniel moved himself from beside the couch to right in front of Tracy. Shaking his head, he winked, mouthing: "Our secret, remember?" And Tracy covered herself. " . . . when I saw I saw a cat peeking in the balcony window."

"A CAT?" Martha scratched her head and settled herself back in her chair. "I've never seen any cats around here."

"It wasn't really a cat," Tracy murmured. "Maybe I had a dream." Thinking it wise to get off the subject as quickly as possible, she added, "Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" Shirley responded.

"Can you start with a soft song?" Her large brown eyes stared up her mother.

"A Christmas one?"

"No, just a soft song," Tracy answered.

"Why?" Shirley asked, puzzled. Usually her daughter liked the more upbeat numbers they performed — mostly because it meant more tambourines.

"Oh, I just think a soft song might be nice for a change."

Shirley shook her head. "Ballad it is . . . Keith, how about _Only a Moment?"_

"Fine with me . . ." her son answered, also looking a bit bewildered. "Upbeat ones are better to really get the blood circulating, though."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Might as well humor her, Keith."

"Okay," Keith shrugged. "One, two, one, two three . . ."

_Only A Moment Ago_ might not be one to set the circulation stirring, but no one could deny it was lovely. 4

As the music began to swell and Shirley, Laurie and Danny came in with the second stanza, Tracy whispered: "Do you like the song?"

Carolyn turned leaned down and kissed Tracy on the top of her head. "Very much, sweetheart."

Tracy shrugged and tipped her head backward to look at Carolyn. "Oh, I'm glad, but I meant the Captain!" she whispered, looking up, and now over — directly at the spirit of Gull Cottage.

"I like the song very much, Tracy," the seaman nodded solemnly.

"Good!" She whispered again. "I know you'd want a quiet one first!" Tracy turned back to face her family and the music continued into the second verse.

As they finished, the happy audience burst into wild applause, and the Partridges were off and running, singing another five songs in rapid succession — beginning with their most recent crowd pleaser _On The Road_, followed by Candy's favorite, _I Think I Love You, To Be Lovers, I'll Leave_ _Myself A Little Time,_ and _I Can Feel Your Heartbeat,_ At first Daniel raised his eyes slightly at the louder thumps of Danny's bass guitar and Chris's drums, at the opening of _Heartbeat_, but by the end of the song, he was just as "into it" as the rest of his 'crew.' Carolyn glanced down at the seaman's feet and grinned — his feet were tapping as much as the kid's were.

From the 'stage,' Keith and Laurie watched Candy as she subconsciously tapped the tambourine in her lap in perfect rhythm to the music. She had been doing it since the first part of the first song they had played, and privately, Laurie wondered if Candy was going to really break loose and let go by the end of _Heartbeat._ The two siblings glanced at the little girl and then at each other. She's only had it for a month and never a lesson? Her inborn talent was remarkable. Laurie signaled he brother not to say anything, and they finished the song. From what they could tell, Candy did really feel their music.

The group stopped at that point, and everyone, including the Captain, applauded again — Candy and Jonathan adding whistles, and Scruffy barked madly, wanting to make sure his approval was noted too. Keith signaled the group 'five minutes,' with his hand, and the Partridges headed for the ice water that Martha had thoughtfully placed on the coffee table.

Jonathan moaned. "You're finished? Blast! Seems like you just got started!"

Candy's eyes clouded over. "Yeah . . ." she looked at Keith, and then at Shirley and Laurie, trying to hide her disappointment. "I'm sorry! We shouldn't ask for more. You've sung a LOT! Tim only sang one song — two if you count the song we snuck downstairs and listened to . . ." She threw a hand over her mouth. "Oops."

"'Oops' is right, but I figured that out ages ago!" Carolyn grinned, coming up behind them, tousling their blonde heads. "Remember?"

"Thanks, Mom!" they chorused.

Keith grinned. "You want more?"

"Sure!" Candy and Jonathan's faces brightened.

"Well good, he answered. "Because we've just been reviewing the old stuff, so far."

"Old?" Candy said. "The album only came out a MONTH ago!"

"True," said Shirley, coming up to where the four were standing. "But remember, we sang those tracks over and over again when we made the album . . . they're old hat to us. We're also rehearsing songs for our NEXT album. I think Keith thought you might like to hear some of our new ones too." Shirley turned and studied Tracy, who had started to cough, and she realized how tired and hot the little girl looked suddenly. "Sorry, kids . . ." and she went over to her little girl. "We need to call it quits for tonight. Tracy needs to get to bed. And you know we can't play after she's asleep — we'll wake her up."

"And you all are probably still tired from your late night last night and today — settling in, and all that," Carolyn added before her two children started moaning. "You need to get some more rest. Hard to believe that tomorrow is Christmas Eve!" She gave her children a wink. "You know how Santa Claus feels about mutineers!"

"Not to mention sea captains!" Jonathan laughed.

"Sea captains?" Shirley asked, thinking about Tracy's rambling on the subject.

"Just our joke," Candy giggled. "You know! Captain Gregg!" She saluted the Captain's portrait, and her mother, and Jonathan following her example. "He ran a taut ship! "No mutinies tonight, Mom!" Candy added. She gave her mother and then Shirley a hug. "This has been super! Thank you so much! We can stop for now . . . Laurie was going to show me how to put makeup on, anyway, remember?" Grabbing her tambourine she looked around and found her new friend. "Laurie! Can we do makeup now?" and she was off.

"Not me!" said Jonathan, making a face. "Chris and I are going to go work on knot-tying." Giving his mother a hug, he was gone also.

"Looks like it's just you and me after we get Tracy down for the night, Carolyn!" Shirley smiled, and her friend shrugged.

"Oh, I imagine we can find something to keep us occupied," Carolyn grinned.

"I'll start another pot of coffee," said Martha. "I can't see you two going to bed for another hour or so, at least!"

The Captain watched as the group dispersed and wondered idly what he would do with the rest of his evening. Sea charts perhaps . . . of course it was high time to catch up his logs. Certainly enough had happened the last day or so. Dematerializing, he heard Martha comment that it was a shame that the Partridge Family hadn't been available that previous March when they were raising money for the seamen's home.

"Think what kind of money we could have raised if THEY had been doing the entertaining!" Martha said. "Can you imagine? And it would have been a much better show!"

Tugging his ear thoughtfully, Daniel Gregg disappeared.

**December 23rd – Midnight**

"Mommy . . ." Tracy's plaintive voice came from the cot where she had been alternately sleeping and waking for the past three hours. "Mommy, I'm thirsty . . ." Shirley moaned, and Carolyn stirred from her side of the bed.

"I'm awake, Shirley." Carolyn answered her friend's groan. "Right with you."

"Thanks," Shirley said softly, reaching for her robe. "Darn fevers! I would love to know what law it is that says that colds and fevers always seem to get worse the later in the evening it gets — blasted things!"

"Blasted?" Carolyn smiled. Where had THAT word come from . . . ? As if she didn't know!

"Definitely blasted. Chris has been using that word practically since he got here. I seem to have picked it up."

"I'm afraid he got it from Jonathan," Carolyn shrugged. "Sorry about that."

"There are worse words," Shirley smiled. "Come on, Tracey, honey . . ." She picked up her child and carried her over to the divan. "Carolyn, if you don't mind, can you bring me a cool washcloth? Maybe if I sponge her down again, she'll feel better."

"Of course," Carolyn nodded. Carolyn stayed handy while Shirley did just that, and after ten minutes or so of 'mommy treatment,' Tracy finally stopped fussing, and started to relax again. She straightened the covers on the little girl's cot while Shirley cuddled Tracy on her lap, Carolyn's afghan covering them, and sang Tracy a lullaby. It took twice through all the verses of Hush, Little Baby for Tracy's eyes to close, but Shirley kept humming — murmuring to Carolyn that her daughter was famous for falling asleep, and then waking with a start five minutes later, thus starting the nighttime process all over again.

Carolyn nodded. "Candy did the same thing." She looked around the dimly lit room and pointed toward the cot. "I threw on a fresh sheet, too. Is there anything else I can get for you as long as I'm up?"

"Maybe some more ice water . . . if you don't mind, Carrie." Shirley whispered, and continued to hum softly into her daughter's ear. "I just need to keep this up for a little longer. Then we can all get back to sleep."

Carolyn left the room for the water, and when she returned, not only was Tracy asleep, but from the looks of things, Shirley too. Now wide awake again, and not wishing to disturb Shirley or Tracy, Carolyn put down the new pitcher of ice water on the night stand and headed for the kitchen. A cup of tea would hit the spot, at the moment.

She tiptoed down to the kitchen again, quietly, not wishing to bother Keith, sound asleep on the living room couch, and wondered where Daniel was. She sighed. Seeing Shirley again and meeting her family, and hearing the group sing had been fun, but at the same time the last day and a half had not been quite what she planned as a part of her Christmas. Especially disconcerting was the fact that, with the blasted blizzard, it wasn't even like she could make the excuse of going for a walk and have a chance to talk to Daniel alone that way. Carolyn was hoping that somehow that afternoon she would have had a chance to sneak away to the wheelhouse . . . attic, but time and circumstances just hadn't allowed it. Ah well, Daniel HAD shown up for the singing earlier, and hadn't raised an eyebrow — even at the more 'upbeat' songs the family had performed.

As she opened the door of the kitchen, she started to reach for the light switch, but stopped. There was a candle burning on the kitchen table and she could see the gas flame burning brightly under the kettle on the stove.

"The light won't be necessary, my dear," the Captain said softly. "You might wake Keith. Your tea should be ready in a few minutes." He indicated the two cups on the table. "May I join you?"

"Please, Captain!" Carolyn smiled, "I can't think of anyone I would rather share a late night 'cuppa' with!"

The Captain smiled and pulled out her chair, watching her as she sat down. "And I, you, my dear!"

The teakettle began its slight chirp, indicating the water was about to boil and the seaman lifted it, taking it over to the table and pouring the water into the china teapot he had placed there, then he replaced the kettle on the stove.

"You look lovely by candlelight, Carolyn . . ." he began.

"Carrie?" a voice came from the kitchen doorway.

"Blast!" said the Captain, but he did not vanish, merely rose from his chair and stood next to the sink. Carolyn glanced at the seaman, but realized immediately that he wasn't really angry with Shirley, just at the circumstances.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Shirley Partridge asked, puzzled, gesturing at the two cups on the table.

"Oh, no" Carolyn gave her friend a smile, hiding her disappointment at her conversation with the Captain ending prematurely. "I figured you would be down in a few minutes."

"I didn't mean to drop off like that," Shirley grinned, reaching for the other chair. "I think Tracy will stay asleep the rest of the night now." She smiled. "I woke up and saw that you'd left, and figured you might have come down here, and thought I'd join you. You're awake now, too?"

"I'll be shoving off, Madam," the spectre said. "You need to talk to . . ."

"Don't go . . ." Carolyn said, without thinking. "I'd really like you to stay."

Startled, the Captain nodded, signaling he would do as she asked, and, as his habit, he leaned against the kitchen counter.

"I was . . . going to," said Shirley. "Unless you . . ."

"Oh, well, you looked a little startled . . . like . . . never mind. Sit down, please," Carolyn asked, pouring the newly brewed tea into the cups.

The two old friends sipped their tea in silence for a few minutes. Finally Shirley spoke. "Carrie . . ."

"Hmm?"

"Don't you think this whole situation is . . . I don't know . . . strange?"

"Strange?" Carolyn frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, that we should meet after such a long time, and yet . . ."

"Yet, what, Shirl?"

Shirley scratched her head, and stirred her tea again, although it really didn't need stirring at all. "Oh, that we should both have been widowed, have children, and somehow, have managed to keep things afloat in such a creative manner — me with the group, and the singing, and all that and you with your writing . . ." Her voice trailed off and she snapped her fingers, and then slapped the side of her head. "Hey! I HAVE read one of your stories! It was about eight months ago. I was getting my hair done. Maiden Voyage, right? You wrote that, didn't you?"

"Closer to a year and a half — you must have been looking at an old magazine, but, yes, that was me . . . us, I should say!" Carolyn grinned, looking at the Captain, who was laughing, unheard, naturally, by Shirley. Will I never live that story down? she thought, then nodded to her friend. "My one and only collaboration with another writer. It was really more HIS story than mine. Not really my style at all. I did get the pipes replaced with that little gem, though," she defended herself.

"I remember looking for the author's name . . . Muir . . . of course it didn't ring any bells at the time . . . I thought I might look for other stories you had written, and well, other things sort of ended up taking priority." Shirley added.

"Other things being . . . your husband's death?" Carolyn asked quietly.

"Yes," she nodded, and sighed softly. "Jack. I . . . in some ways I haven't had a chance to talk about it much with friends of mine. Women, especially. It's the oddest thing, but I think other women look at me and feel guilty because they still have a husband. I'm a reminder that the same thing could happen to them. But I need to talk. This is still my year of 'firsts,' and while becoming a "musical sensation" — Variety's words, not mine," she laughed shortly. "Has been time consuming and distracting, and, yes, fun, not to mention financially beneficial, it still doesn't take away from the fact that Jack died eight months ago, and I . . ."

" . . . Still miss him? Want him with you?" Carolyn asked softly. "There's nothing unusual in that."

Shirley shook her head. "No Carrie. It's the other way around. I'll try to keep this short. It's late. I probably shouldn't even be getting into all this."

"It is indeed, my dear," The Captain nodded from his corner. "But I do believe Mrs. Partridge needs to talk to a good friend, and you, Carolyn, ARE that. I, on the other hand, should go."

"Please, stay." Carolyn said, rising, supposedly to put the tea kettle back on, but actually to get closer to the seaman, who was looking uncomfortable. "I can't think of anyone who needs to be here more. Don't leave."

Surprised, the seaman nodded, and watched as Carolyn returned to the table.

"Thanks, Carrie," said Shirley, giving her friend a grateful look.

"Shirley, what is it?" Carolyn prodded gently, and the other blonde shrugged and ran her hands through her hair.

"Okay. I need to back up a bit, here. You know we moved that summer before I started high school..."

"How could I forget?" Carolyn gave a wry smile. "I was miserable for ages about you moving away."

"I met Chuck two days after school started, and he was my main boyfriend through all three years of high school," Shirley continued. "We dated others in our sophomore and junior years, but went steady as seniors — even acted opposite each other in the senior class play."

"I thought your husband's name was Jack," Carolyn said, puzzled.

"It is . . . was," said Shirley. "There's more. Chuck took early graduation, enlisted in the Navy and shipped out shortly after."

"Oh . . ." Carolyn murmured. "You must have been devastated."

"I was!" Shirley smiled. "But then Jack came along. We had dated as juniors, sort of, but I didn't find him nearly as charming as Chuck at the time, but after Chuck was gone, suddenly Jack was back in the picture . . . and fascinating. He was captain of the basketball team, the debate team, and was lusted after by every girl in school, and well, to make a long story short, we dated no one but each other for about six months, decided we were madly in love and couldn't wait, and in August, two months after graduation, we eloped to Maryland, and I gave birth to Keith in April of 1954."

"Well . . ." Carolyn hedged. "So far you sound like you were happy."

"We were . . ." Shirley agreed, "For a long time, despite our impetuous, early marriage. Our parents helped us out occasionally, Jack went to work for his father, and made enough money so that I didn't have to work, except sometimes a little part time stuff here and there around Christmas. Then I had Laurie — went back to school, part time, then gave birth to Danny, Chris, and finally, Tracy."

"I don't quite understand," Carolyn said, going to the stove for the teakettle, which was now beginning to boil again.

"Things just started to go downhill." Shirley answered. "I just don't know how else to say it. Jack developed a drinking problem . . . too much client entertaining, I guess. He did that a lot working for his father. It got to the point he was traveling on the road more than he was home, the kids practically never saw him and neither did I, and when he was home he seemed angry and frustrated, and he even said, more than once, that he regretted marrying so young. I knew it was just a matter of time before Jack would decide that divorce was what he wanted. I wasn't even sure how much I cared at that point. We didn't have very much left in common by then, except for the kids."

"The cad," the Captain exploded. "Five children! How dare he do such a thing?"

"Shirley!" Carolyn finished pouring the hot water into the teapot, brought the kettle back over to the stove, and returned to the kitchen table, where she sat down, and glanced at Daniel's scowling face. "You said he died, what . . ."

"Yes." She grasped her friend's hand tightly. "He did. A car accident. The police said that there was definitely alcohol involved. One car, thank God. If he had to go, I can only be thankful he didn't take anyone else with him."

"Oh, Shirley!" The tears were falling down Carolyn's cheeks. "How awful! When was this, exactly?"

"April fifth, of this year — seven days before Keith's birthday."

"No wonder your feelings are so . . . mixed," Carolyn squeezed her friend's hand. "Do . . . Uhm, do the kids know what really happened?"

Shirley nodded. "Laurie and Keith do. And Danny, I think, maybe, although he hasn't mentioned it to me. Kids are smart, you know. Keith and Laurie weren't even that surprised. Chris and Tracy just think it was a car accident. I do plan on telling them some day, naturally, but . . ."

"But you need to figure out your feelings in the matter before inflicting how you feel on them?"

Shirley nodded again. "Exactly." She sighed. "I didn't mean to get into all this. I guess I wanted to tell you because I know you've been widowed longer, and I was just wondering how long it takes before you — well, you know, get used to being without a husband and re-living the moment you found out about his death, but your circumstances are different, and . . ."

"Not THAT different," Carolyn said, her voice low.

Daniel Gregg's eyebrows shot up about an inch. "Madam?" He blurted out, before he could stop himself.

Carolyn sighed and, as far as Shirley could see, looked off into space for a moment, but actually she was looking at the Captain, and he knew she was speaking to him. "You need to know, now." And quickly she turned back to her old friend. "After all . . ." she quickly added. "You told me your story."

Shirley nodded. "I'm sorry. Are you sure you aren't tired?"

"Oh, no." Carolyn smiled. "I'm wide awake." Taking another swallow of her tea, she began. "Robert and I met in college at the beginning of my senior year, and married in 1958 — when I was finishing up grad school. My parents were thrilled that I had 'found someone' and were planning a big fussy wedding." She smiled. "Oddly enough, we eloped by running off to Maryland too. We thought it would be more romantic . . . and neither of us really wanted a big wedding anyway."

"Were you happy?" Shirley asked, curious. She blushed. "Sorry, stupid question, I guess."

"I was. We were." Carolyn answered. "But now, looking back on it, I know now we had problems right from the beginning. Robert went to work for his father. Sales work, oddly enough, like Jack, but more office stuff — statistics, pounding out numbers, paperwork, that sort of thing. You'd have to know Ralph, my father-in-law, but he's the no-nonsense type . . . what he said went, and he doesn't take a lot of input from anyone else well." Shirley nodded. "And Robert was his father's son," Carolyn continued. "He liked things done a certain way too. He had very definite ideas of what a wife 'should be' and didn't want me working. I was trying to be a good wife, and do what a good wife was expected to do, and well, even though I would have rather worked for a while first, I stayed at home, did the housewife thing, although I did manage to do a little freelance writing. Then I became pregnant and gave birth to Candy in November of nineteen-sixty."

"He must have been thrilled," Shirley interjected.

"Oh, he was," Carolyn shrugged, "Robert even decided on her name . . . Candace Marie, for his two grandmothers, but he did tell me the day we got home from the hospital how disappointed he was that she wasn't a son . . . that his father had been counting on a boy, and how much he had too, and how having a girl as the eldest child went against four generations of Muirs . . . as if I could send her back, or something."

"Carolyn!" Daniel rammed his fist into the palm of his other hand, and for a moment, Carolyn thought she heard the crack of thunder. "Why . . . ?"

"That's awful," said Shirley, with a choked sound in her voice. "If Jack had ever said that, I would have left and there never would have been Laurie, Danny, Chris or Tracy."

"He apologized right after," Carolyn said, "and for a while, things went fairly smoothly. Candy was beautiful and she really was his pride and joy. I was happy too — I still wasn't working, I mean at a job, but I was doing some more freelance stuff along the way, we had hired Martha part time, and things seemed to be going well, and then I found out I was pregnant again."

"Jonathan?" Shirley asked, and Carolyn nodded.

"I wasn't quite sure how Robert was going to take it. Even though the home front was smooth on the surface, there was some underlying tension I couldn't put my finger on. I just felt like there was a little something missing. Robert had never been one to come home and talk about his day, or ask my opinion about things going on around the office, so I knew better than to ask. I just kind of chalked it up to work issues, or disagreements with his father about the way he was doing his job, and thought it would be better if I kept my nose out of his work affairs."

"I would," Shirley nodded. "Very fine line there to cross over, and I know Jack never seemed to understand that even though I didn't know about everything going on in the office, that sometimes a fresh perspective can do wonders."

"Anyway," Carolyn continued. "Robert seemed happy about my pregnancy, but his behavior, and the tension, went on until after Jonathan was born in November of nineteen-sixty-two." She smiled. "Things were better for a bit because Jonathan WAS a boy, although we did get into a huge argument right after he was born because I wanted to name him Jonathan, after my favorite uncle, and Robert wanted him to be Robert Junior, but that time I stuck to my guns and insisted that I wanted my uncle's name, and since he had the final say-so with Candy, it was my turn." She sighed. "Robert finally agreed, but after that things seemed to get worse." There was another crack of thunder and Shirley jumped up and peered out the kitchen windows into the blackness.

"You get the strangest weather up here," she said, peering out the window again. "I've heard of rain over snow, but never thunder, especially when it's still snowing." Carolyn threw Daniel a look, the thunder stopped, and Shirley returned to the kitchen table. "So . . . what happened, Carrie? With Robert, I mean?"

"We . . . well, he . . . we . . ."

Shirley put her hand over her friend's. "Carrie, what happened?"

"Just about the time Jonathan was three, and Candy five, our fights started escalating." Carolyn shrugged. "It seemed like anything could set them off — something I did, something his father had said or done that day, about his parent's interference, especially concerning 'their' grandchildren. We had a huge fight the day I said maybe things would be smoother if we could hire Martha as a live-in and I could go back to work. Then, about a month after that, he . . ."

Shirley held her breath and let it out slowly. "What, Carrie? He didn't HIT you, did he?"

For a split second, the Captain's image shifted and Carolyn could have sworn he looked more solid than ethereal. "Oh, no! Nothing like that," Carolyn protested. "That was one thing Robert would never do. He did his fighting more with words, and actions, but not physical, like hitting. No. I found out that he was having an affair."

There was a quick intake of breath from Captain Gregg, but Shirley only nodded. "Figures — " and she gave her friend's hand another squeeze.

"I remember I found out on a Monday," Carolyn continued. "Robert was out of town on business. A letter from his girlfriend came to the house. It was pink, engraved stationery, heavily scented, and addressed to me. It was worded very carefully, but the gist of it was that she and Robert had been lovers for more than a year, and that she was tired of the secrets, and that they wanted to marry, but it was only his 'love for his children' that kept him from asking me for a divorce — that, and the 'scandal' it would create, but that if I filed instead, things would be better for all concerned."

"What an outrageous, thing to do!" the Captain exploded, "Of all the . . ."

Shirley shook her head. "Sounds as if the girlfriend was just about at the end of her rope too. It's ironic, really, Carrie. Men accuse women of being deceiving, and devious, but I think we're much more straightforward than they give us credit for."

Carolyn nodded her head in agreement. "Everything I had ever felt for Robert died in that instant I think, but I wanted to wait to talk to him. So I did . . . all week. He came home from his business trip that Friday."

"Did you confront . . . the scoundrel?" the Captain asked from his corner, wishing he could have taken care of the matter himself.

"What did you do?" Shirley asked, simultaneously.

"Robert got home about seven-thirty that evening," Carolyn recalled. "The kids were already in bed, of course, and I realized he had been with his girlfriend before he bothered coming home." She made a face.

"Did he try to deny it?" her friend asked.

"No. Actually, to give him his due, he mentioned it before I could,"

"Did he say he wanted a divorce?"

"Exactly the opposite!" Carolyn said. "He said that Cheryl — that was the name of his girlfriend, had no right to write that letter, and no, he didn't want a divorce, that the scandal would be detrimental to his reputation, his parent's reputation, to his career, and he wouldn't dream of 'his children' being raised in a broken home."

"I'd say it was fairly broken already," the seaman commented, darkly.

"He didn't say he was giving up Cheryl, either," Carolyn recalled. "We fought back and forth for at least another half hour, and then I heard Jonathan crying — the shouting had awakened him, which just seemed to upset Robert even further! He made some comment that our life would be entirely different if we didn't have 'everyone else' interfering . . . his resentment of Jonathan interrupting our fight was clear, but I think maybe he was talking about his father, too. Anyway, he stormed out, saying he was going to go down to the corner store and buy cigarettes. When he wasn't back in a half an hour, I started to worry, and then I figured he had decided to go back to see his girlfriend. I waited for a while longer, and no Robert. I was just about to say the heck with it and go to bed when a knock came at the door. It was the police."

Shirley bit her lower lip. "Carrie what happened? Was he in a car acc . . . ?" Carolyn shook her head.

"No — even more bizarre than that. He walked straight into an armed robbery at the drugstore. He was shot . . . and had died almost instantly. That was April fifth, nineteen sixty-five."

Carolyn watched the Captain as he moved toward her and stood as close to her as he dared. The gesture was comforting.

"Oh, Carrie!" Shirley gasped. "How awful! And I do see what you mean about how our lives have been running a parallel line — April fifth — that was the same day Jack died!"

"I know." Carolyn gave a wry smile. "But five years earlier. I thought it was ironic."

"I'd call it just plain weird," Shirley commented. "So, when . . . and how, did you end up in Maine?"

Carolyn drew a long breath in and exhaled. "It took me about two and a half years to get things together. I worked as a filler on a small newspaper in Philly, and got more experience in writing — all that had kind of been sidelined after I married Robert. My boss said I had a real talent for feature and independent writing and he encouraged me, and my parents helped me out financially, so we didn't starve. It took over a year for them to catch and convict the man who had killed Robert. I remember walking out of the courtroom saying: 'Now, I'm free,' going to the drug store nearest the courthouse, getting a cup of coffee, and starting to look at real estate ads. I don't know what made me think of looking at ones in the Maine area, but I did."

"You always did like sea stories, and sailing and things like that," said Shirley. "I even remember you saying once you wanted a house on the beach. It doesn't surprise me a bit."

"Anyway, I found Claymore's ad," Carolyn continued. "It took a little time for me to convince my parents and Robert's parents that I needed to make a fresh start, and that I could really support 'their grandchildren,' but I did. I sold everything except our clothes, and some of the kid's toys, and my typewriter, as Gull Cottage came furnished, and convinced Martha to make the move with us. In spite of her occasional grumbles, I was fairly sure she would."

Shirley nodded again. "She's great. The kids love her."

"Anyway, now I'm here and I love it and I don't think anyone or anything could make me leave. Coming here to Gull Cottage was the smartest thing I have ever done." Carolyn looked past her friend for a moment and directly into the Captain's blue eyes, now gazing steadily into her green ones.

"You look happy, Carrie."

"I am, Shirl, more than I can ever say. All of us are, I think. All five of us."

"I've never been happier than the day you came into my life, dear lady," the Captain said gruffly.

Shirley blinked. "Five?"

"Oh, four, of us, I mean, of course. Five, if Scruffy could talk and let me know for sure!" Carolyn covered herself, and looked at the clock. "Shirley, it's almost one-thirty. We need to get some rest." She put her hand on her old friend's arm. "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough with me to tell me about Jack."

Shirley nodded. "Likewise. That's what good friends do. Thank YOU for trusting ME."

"And me, my dear Carolyn," the seaman added, and he dematerialized, leaving the two women alone in the kitchen.

Arm in arm, Carolyn and Shirley headed for the stairs.

December 24th – Christmas Eve Morning

Carolyn and Shirley woke the next morning at eight-thirty to the sound of excited children's voices in the hallway, and they both groaned . . . Morning already! Shirley glanced at Tracy, still slumbering on her cot. Well, at least that was a good sign. Throwing on her robe, she reached over to feel the little girl's forehead. Blast. Still entirely too warm for comfort. Grabbing her robe also, Carolyn made her way to the bedroom door. Outside stood Jonathan, Danny, Chris, Candy and Keith.

"Hey, Carolyn!" Keith peered over her shoulder to where his mother was carefully adjusting Tracy's covers, which had become twisted around her legs during the night. "Mom! Guess what?"

"Shh!" his mother warned. "Don't you DARE wake your sister up!"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "We just wanted to tell you that . . ."

"It's stopped snowing," said Danny, stealing his brother's thunder.

"And the sun's out," Chris added.

"I was going to tell her!" Keith hissed.

"That's great, wonderful!" said Carolyn softly, but adding urgently: "You can tell us more when we get downstairs, okay?"

"Okay," they all agreed, moving away from the door.

Carolyn eyed the apologetic children. Who was missing? Oh, yes, Laurie.

"Where's your sister, Keith?" she asked. "Still sleeping?"

"No. She's downstairs, helping Martha."

"Good — thanks for waking us up and letting us know, now why don't you all go downstairs and see if there is anything else you can do to help?"

"On our way," said Danny.

"Right," his brother added. "Maybe after breakfast we'll see what we can do about shoveling the walk again. It looks like all the drifting snow pretty well covered what we tried to do yesterday."

Carolyn went to the closet and started getting dressed. "Don't rush it, Shirl," She turned around to face her friend, seeing that Tracy was starting to wake up. "I'll get moving here and then send Laurie upstairs with more toast and ginger-ale for Tracy. Then you can re-Vick's her, and cuddle her down in the big bed where she can stay nice and warm." Hurriedly, she slipped into a pair of black slacks and a black turtleneck, and a pair of tennis shoes and headed for the door.

"Thanks, Carrie," said Shirley. "Bet you had no idea what you were in for two days ago!"

"Don't mention it!" was the last thing Shirley heard as Carolyn closed the bedroom door behind her.

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Shirley Partridge entered the kitchen about fifteen minutes later. The kitchen was filled with happy noises and general conversation. Danny, Jonathan and Chris were politely arguing over the merits of basketball over baseball over football, Candy was talking with Laurie about their makeup lesson the night before — Candy asking how long it took before you could apply makeup right without it taking the hour and a half they spent the previous evening. Martha was watching the pancakes so they didn't burn, Keith was scribbling on a pad of paper and Carolyn was helping Martha — refilling juice and milk glasses and rinsing sticky pancake plates.

"How's Tracy?" Laurie inquired, standing up and giving her mother her seat.

"Back in bed," Shirley nodded. "I got her to eat some more toast, and drink a little ginger-ale. She's not as fussy as I thought she'd be, considering how restless she was last night, but . . ."

"What, Mom?" Laurie asked. "You look worried."

"I don't know," Shirley shook her head again. "As she was waking up earlier, she was sort of talking in her sleep, and said she wanted the 'Angel Captain' to tell her a story. Then when I tried to get her to tell me what she was talking about, she looked surprised, then she didn't say anything for a second, and then said she had a nice DREAM about a Captain." Behind Shirley, Carolyn and Martha turned away hurriedly, faced the stove and stuck rags in their mouths, blocking their giggles.

"Angel Captain?" Danny asked. "Weird. That's a new one. Normally Trace dreams about flying ballerinas when she's sick."

"I can't believe the day has come where ANYONE would refer Daniel Gregg as an angel!" Martha whispered, recovering herself. "Rogue, charmer, delightfully devious, charmingly distracting, maybe, but an ANGEL?"

Grinning, Carolyn elbowed her housekeeper in the ribs, grabbed a new stack of pancakes, and returned to the table. "I'm . . . sure she'll be all right, Shirley." She soothed her friend, thinking of a certain sea captain she knew that was, no doubt, even at this moment, upstairs hovering over the sleeping child. Touching, how obviously fond of her he had become in such a short time.

"I suppose so," Shirley sighed. "I know people can have really interesting dreams when they're sick. Some people even think that dreams have a healing effect."

Carolyn nodded, thinking of what she privately called her "Ague Dream," and how much she wished it could have lasted even one more minute. Blast Margaret Coburn for fainting anyway.

"I am a little worried though. We're running low on aspirin," Shirley added.

"Why don't you give Tracy Willow Bark Golden Elixir?" Jonathan piped up from the children's table.

Chris made a face. "Never heard of it! What is it?"

"Alfalfa, foxgloves, willow bark, parsley, sage, thyme . . ."

"That sounds disgusting," Danny interrupted.

"And a shot of brandy . . . that's what puts the keel under it!" Jonathan added, pleased with himself. Carolyn shot him a "You know the rules, Jonathan," look, and the boy received an even stranger look from Shirley. Aided by a silent kick from Candy, Jonathan got the message immediately. "Oh, yeah, we can't," he said hurriedly. "The garden is covered in snow."

"The things kids pick up on television!" Carolyn said.

"But . . ." Shirley began, but was cut off by the sound of the ringing telephone.

Hallelujah. The phone lines were up!

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By eleven-thirty, the activity around Gull Cottage had doubled. With a minimum amount of difficulty, Shirley Partridge had managed to place several long distance calls — the first of course being to her parents, in Philly. She explained the situation briefly, and told her parents that she and the kids would be on their way to Philadelphia as soon as possible, given the closed roads and the broken bus. While disappointed at the prospect of not having their only daughter and grandchildren with them for Christmas, they were most relieved at the news that everyone was safe and sound, and delighted that Shirley had bumped into Carrie Williams again. Then they asked for the telephone number of Carolyn's parents — saying now that they were both back in the same state, they just had to get together.

After that call was completed, Shirley, remembering the time difference between Maine and all points west, finished her breakfast before calling the group's manager, Reuben Kinkaid, still in Arizona, to inform him of their unplanned layover. Reuben, too, was happy to hear that his favorite clients were safe and sound. As Laurie had pointed out, there was little he could do about their situation from where he was, but he had been touched and pleased that they had called, and had asked Shirley to call him back the next day with a progress report.

Last but not least, Shirley was able to place a call to her children's pediatrician, Doctor Griffith, in California. Sighing, the doctor had explained that Tracy's 'bug' was all over the city — and that he would have been more surprised if Shirley's children had escaped unscathed. When Shirley mentioned Tracy's fever and her mumbling about seeing an angel, the doctor said not to worry — that it was probably just a combination of Tracy's fever and her vivid imagination and to just humor the little girl.

"Tracy's angel will go away when her fever drops," he added. Then Shirley gave him the telephone number for the local druggist in Schooner Bay — where he would phone in the prescription.

While Shirley had been busy on the telephone, the Partridge and Muir children, all but Tracy, of course, started on a few chores of their own. Danny and Candy helping Martha clean up the kitchen first, and then they joined Keith, Laurie and Chris outside, where they were making slow but steady progress clearing the porch, flagstone pathway, and front path of Gull Cottage of snow.

Her last call completed, Shirley begged a fresh cup of coffee from Martha and made her way back into the living room where Carolyn was busy folding the last of a load of towels.

"So, what's the verdict, Shirl?" Carolyn asked, seeing the frown on her friend's features. "Something tells me we aren't out of the woods on everything just yet!"

"No, not quite yet, and to be honest, I'm not quite sure WHAT I can do at this point!" Shirley answered. "I just talked to your druggist, Mr. Crough. He said that he can get Tracy's prescription almost immediately, but — "

"But what?"

"But he can't deliver it here!" Shirley paused, biting her lower lip, a sure sign, Carolyn remembered, how upset her friend was. "You know, because of the roads . . . Schooner Bay is only two miles away, I understand, but the road is all hilly, and not that well-traveled, and still blocked by snow, which means we can't drive into town either, even if the bus was okay, which it's not." Taking another swallow of her coffee, she continued. "The druggist said he has a small snow plow, and will try to get through, but he won't promise anything." Shirley's green-eyed gaze met that of her friends. "What can we do now?"

"That's simple," Keith said, coming into the living room from where he had been outside, shoveling off the last of the front porch. "Just let me get into some dry clothes, and I'll go." He put an arm around his mother's shoulders and gave her a quick hug.

Shirley shook her head. "No way, Keith. Carolyn says it's a two-mile walk into town."

"I've taken hikes that long before!" Keith protested.

"Yes, but not in the snow, and there are three foot drifts out there," his mother answered back.

"I've been working with those drifts for the last two hours, Mom."

"Yes . . . in the front yard of a house where you can keep coming back inside and get warm if you need to."

"So I'll put on an extra pair of socks."

"You could get lost, Keith."

"Mom!"

"I could go with Keith, Mom, and make sure he stays on the right road," said Jonathan, who had just come inside with Danny.

This time both Carolyn and Shirley shook their heads. "No can do, Jonathan," Shirley smiled at the eight-year-old, who was trying so hard to help. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. You both could get lost, and besides, it's cold out there. My doctor says lots of children have picked up this bug Tracy has, and I would feel terrible if you came down with anything because of us."

"Blast," said Danny. "I don't suppose you would consider letting me go with Keith?"

"Nope." Shirley shook her head again. "Same answer, same reason. One sick child is quite enough. The way the five of you pass colds and flu around, we wouldn't be through running the gamut on this thing until the end of next month, and we have concerts scheduled the last two weekends in January, remember?"

Danny nodded. "I forgot those, Mom. I'm sorry. It was just an idea."

"I know you meant well, sweetheart!" Shirley gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"So what CAN we do about this?" Keith paced. "We have to do SOMEthing."

"For the time being, I'm afraid that's nothing," Shirley said, resignedly.

"We've waited this long, I guess we'll just have to wait a little longer." Carolyn agreed. "Maybe Mr. Crough will get through, and this discussion will be moot. In the meantime, let's finish up what needs to be finished up around here, and see what we can do to help Martha get ready for lunch, all right?"

"All right," Keith agreed, heading for the door. "Danny, Jonathan . . . we need to finish that front walk. I can't believe how heavy snow gets!" he added. "Let's get busy."

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Tracy Partridge peeked out the window of the master bedroom and watched her brothers and sister and the Muir children. They sure looked like they were having fun! Life was so unfair at times! Aggravated and bored, she turned and made her way back to the bed. She shouldn't have left it to begin with. Mommy said she could get cold, and maybe she was right. Her feet were freezing. Frustrated, she thumped her pillow, trying to get comfortable.

"Tracy, you'll get well much faster if you stay in bed, keep warm, and rest," a kind but firm voice said.

"Hi, Captain!" Tracy answered immediately, and scooted herself down further under the heavy quilt. "Watcha doing?"

"Visiting with you," he answered quietly.

"You just got here," the little girl said reasonably. "I meant before."

"Oh, not that much . . ." he responded, knowing instinctively that telling a bored, sick little girl about things she couldn't do wouldn't be a good idea. "Just a little paperwork."

"You mean, like homework?" the little girl asked, mystified. "My brothers and sisters have homework, and I will too, when I start first grade next year."

"Sort of," he grinned in spite of himself. "But no one tells me what . . . Uhm . . . homework I have to do." Sitting on the end of the bed, he continued. "I have my sea charts, of course, that are constantly in need of revisions, and naturally I keep a ship's log of . . ."

"What's that?"

"A log? Well, it's a diary, I guess you could say of what happens to me and my family every day."

"Oh, like a journal!" Tracy grinned. "Keith and Laurie have journals. Danny tried to read Laurie's once and got in a lot of trouble."

"As well he should have!" the seaman grinned back. "Journals are very private things."

"But, why do you write in them if no one can read them?" Tracy wondered.

"I write in them because . . . well . . . because it gives me a way to express my thoughts and feelings in a way that just trying to speak the words can't, I suppose," said the Captain thoughtfully.

"That's what Laurie says," Tracy said, nodding her head. "I bet you know some great stories, though."

"I've been told I do," Daniel answered. "Tracy, would you like me to tell you a story?"

Her eyes brightened. "That would be wonderful! Do you know any stories about animals?"

"Indeed I do!" the seaman grinned. "Would you like me to tell you the story about the time I rescued a ship's cat and her seven kittens?"

"Oh, YES please!" Tracy cried sitting up and clapping her hands.

"Very well then. Now, you just tuck yourself back in bed and I'll begin . . . Let me see now. It was the winter of 1841. My crew and I were on our way back from Madagascar, and we encountered a storm so wild and fierce that . . ."

Twenty minutes later, Daniel adjusted the covers over the now-sleeping child, and dematerialized — reappearing in front of Claymore Gregg.

"Gaaa! What are you doing here?" Claymore dropped the stack of files he was moving from his desk to his filing cabinet. "Now, look what you made me do! It's Christmas Eve, for Pete's sake! Why don't you go haunt someone else? Can't I have just one or two days a year when . . . ?"

Daniel Gregg waved his hand, and Claymore watched as the folders righted themselves — it was rather like watching a film running in reverse, he thought. In two shakes, the files were inserted where they belonged, followed by the rest of the folders on Claymore's desk.

"Seymour Van Gundy is best filed under 'V,' not 'G'," the seaman commented, taking the aforementioned file and moving it from one drawer to another. "The way you handle your paperwork is atrocious."

"I'm sure you didn't pop into my office just to berate my filing system, Spooky. Besides, I've been busy," Claymore snapped. "You know — I have the Christmas tree lot to manage this time of year, and I've been playing Santa at Ollie Wilkins general store."

The seaman shook his head. "A more unlikely casting I have never heard of."

Claymore saw the gleam in the Captain's eye. "Look. It's one-thirty in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. Aren't I entitled to a little peace and quiet? What do you want, anyway? I have things to do. I'm busy."

"You will be busier, if I have anything to do about it," the seaman growled. "And believe me, I do. Claymore, you are going to do me a favor . . . " Quickly, the spirit told his supposed nephew about what had transpired in the last forty-eight hours — the late night arrival of the Partridge family at Gull Cottage, the broken axle, the discovery that the two women knew each other, and, most important, Tracy, and their desperate need for the prescription now standing ready at the Schooner Bay drugstore. A little invisible investigation the seaman had done before arriving at Claymore's office had determined with almost certainty that the road to Gull Cottage wouldn't begin to be passable by automobile for at least one more day. "And I want YOU to deliver the medicine to Mrs. Partridge," he finished.

"WALK? No way!" Claymore whined. "It's two miles! Why should I go out in the cold on Christmas Eve? Just because they are a popular singing group, that's no reason I need to put myself out!"

"Claymore, have you no heart at all?"

"I have a heart! I believe I proved that last Christmas when I took care of Slugger — you remember — the baby I almost adopted?"

"Correction, my dear fellow. You didn't adopt him, or even take care of him. You found him and brought him to Carolyn Muir — she provided the infant with shelter and proper care until his parents were located."

"My heart was in the right place! Anyway, why should I kill myself just because these people are a current 'in-group' for kids?"

"Because it's the right thing to do, Claymore."

"Because they're important? Well, my comfort is important to me."

"Actually, I'm surprised you even know who the Partridges are."

"Ollie Wilkins has been playing their record at the drugstore. Lots of kids have been buying it."

"Claymore, you are going to deliver that medicine."

"It's cold out there."

"You have a coat, and gloves, and snowshoes. And you've traveled the road before."

"You made me jog home that night . . . LATE. It was September, and warm, I might add, not December, following a major blizzard, and, yeah, I had to walk back and get my car the next day, but . . ."

"I don't want any more arguments. It's a mercy mission, you idiot. For the little girl. For Tracy."

"Why me?" Claymore whined. "You're here already. Why don't you get the medicine and get it to the kid?"

"Dolt. Just how do you think I am going to get it and pay for it? And how do you think Mrs. Muir will explain it arriving? Santa Claus and his sleigh, perhaps?"

"Oh, yeah . . ." The miser of Schooner Bay looked at the spirit thoughtfully. "Well, what's in it for me?"

"You not getting nailed to the nearest mizzen mast, that's what, Claymore, and believe me, I will figure out a way to do it."

"Oh . . ." Claymore considered this option.

"So which will it be? Make the trip out to Gull Cottage and pay a few dollars for the medication and face a few hours of slight discomfort or look forward to eternal torment for the rest of your natural life from me?" There was a pause. "Well?" the Captain demanded.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking!" Claymore answered. His voice was petulant.

"And not only that, just in case you are thinking of charging the medicine to Mrs. Muir, as you did the items for the baby last year, forget it. Do you understand? You can afford it! No arguments! If you don't do this, Claymore, I will haunt you till the end of your days and make your life so miserable that . . ."

"I still don't understand. Why me? All I can see I am going to get out of this is a bill at the drugstore and frozen feet," Claymore protested, and the Captain could see that Claymore was beginning to cave in.

Daniel Gregg gave Claymore a sly smile, ready to expose the final card in his hand. "Well, Claymore, I may be able to give you at least one more incentive for you to be chivalrous and do this for Mrs. Muir and for the Partridge family. You see, my dear fellow, I have this idea . . ."

xxxxxxxx

Claymore pounded on the door of Gull Cottage — an hour and forty-five minutes later — cold and tired, but invigorated. The trip hadn't been nearly as difficult as he had dreaded, once he got moving. Traveling on foot, he had been able to weave his way around the mountainous drifts, and Captain Gregg had even popped in on him several times, checking on his progress . . . in a prodding, yet almost worried way. When Claymore had thanked the spirit for his concern, the Captain had replied, blustering, that he was merely making sure that his supposed nephew was alive and well, as he had no interest in the man joining him in his eternal state just yet.

At his insistent knocking, Carolyn headed for the door — Shirley following close behind.

"Claymore!" Carolyn cried, opening the door and staring at her landlord in surprise. She peered past him. His ancient car was nowhere in sight. "Where did you come from? How did you get here? What are you doing here?"

Claymore stepped into the foyer and began to stamp the snow off his boots on the mat Martha had placed there. "Burrr! My goodness, it's cold out there!" He turned to Shirley. "Hello, hello! You must be Shirley Partridge! You can call me C.G. . . . "

"C.G.?" Shirley asked, blankly.

"Claymore Gregg. I'm Mrs. Muir's landlord. I just got word you had been stranded here, and in need of help — Cap . . ."

The Captain appeared, glaring. "Not me, you simpleton, Mrs. Muir!"

"Oh, I er — Well, Mrs. Muir wanted it to be a secret about you being . . . but well, she called me, and told me about your little girl . . . and I offered . . . that is . . . well, here." Digging into his coat pocket, Claymore fished out the prescription he had picked up at the druggist's and handed it to Shirley, and the Captain disappeared again.

Nonplused, Shirley looked at the bag, opened it, pulled out the prescription bottle with Tracy's name on it, and a smile broke out over her face. "You brought Tracy her medicine? How can I EVER thank you!" Impulsively, she kissed her benefactor on the cheek and made a run toward the stairs.

"Martha?" Carolyn called. "Claymore's just landed! Where is everyone?"

"Keith is in the alcove, working on his song, Laurie and Candy are upstairs in her room, Danny, Chris and Jonathan are, I think, in his room — reading comic books. Hi, Claymore!" she added, "I'm surprised to see you here! Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Brandy would be better, just to warm my blood a little, but I suppose it's too early yet," the lanky man sighed. "Coffee would be fine, thanks."

"Can you round up the kids, Martha?" Carolyn added. "They need to come down here and meet Claymore. He came out here, on foot, no less, with Tracy's medicine. Wasn't that nice of him?"

"Nice? More like a miracle, I'd say!" Turning, the housekeeper started upstairs to collect the children, remembering not to shout, least she disturb Tracy. "Guess I should put something 'special' in his coffee after all!"

"It really was sweet of you to bring Tracy's medicine all the way out here, Claymore," Carolyn said as they started toward the living room.

"Well, old Blast and Bother made me do it . . ." Claymore responded, removing his coat and hanging on the coat rack.

"Watch it, Claymore . . ." The seaman appeared again, looking cross.

"How did the Captain do that?" Carolyn asked.

"Well, part of it you don't want to know, but, well, remember I told you a long time ago, that wild horses couldn't drag me out here, but money can?"

"Money? What money?" Carolyn asked suspiciously. "I should have known. What are you up to?"

"Well, Captain Gregg popped into town, told me about the kid . . ."

"Her name is Tracy, Claymore."

"Tracy, and he gave me this idea . . ."

"What idea?"

"I'll tell you in a minute . . ." Claymore stopped and looked around.

"Tell us what?" Shirley Partridge asked, coming into the living room — her four children, Candy, Jonathan and Martha following close behind with a coffee tray.

"Oh, just this idea I had." Claymore seated himself comfortably on the sofa.

"My idea, Claymore!" the Captain said invisibly.

"Did I hear you mention the word money?" Danny asked, his eyes narrowed, and he peered at Claymore from his seat next to him on the couch, then turned to his mother. "Mom, in Mr. Kinkaid's absence, I'm manager of this group, and therefore in charge of all money matters, and I . . ."

"Hush, Danny," Shirley said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Let's just listen to Mr. Gregg's idea."

"Mr. Gregg sure doesn't look like the Captain in the portrait," Laurie whispered to Candy. "Are you sure they're related?" They were standing by the fireplace, and unbeknownst to the two girls, the seaman was standing, invisibly, right next to them.

"Claymore says they are, but you're right, they sure DON'T look alike!" Candy whispered back. "And the Captain definitely doesn't act anything like the jellyfish either," The little girl added, in a voice so low almost no one else could hear it, but the seaman smiled.

"Well then . . ." Claymore said, looking important. "Here's my . . . the idea. Mrs. Muir told me about your bus and all and well . . ." He fidgeted. "We want you to give a Christmas concert here in Schooner Bay. We can hold it in our little theater. I heard your tour included Keystone, but, well, that's twenty miles away, and I know for a fact that there were kids in town here that have gladly gone to see it there, but the bad weather stopped them, and I know their parents would have gone too, and, well, a concert would be great for Schooner Bay. We have more than five-hundred people living here in town and the surrounding area and between children and parents, I can almost guarantee you a full house."

"Us, give a concert?" Danny asked. "I don't get it. What exactly do we get out of it?"

Keith shook his head. "I have to ask the same question, Mr. Gregg. I mean, if everyone in Schooner Bay is as nice as Carolyn, Martha, Candy and Jonathan, I don't mind performing, but, well, what exactly is the point?"

"Well, if you'll give me a chance to finish . . ." Claymore sniffed. "The Cap . . . That is, I think, and the city council agrees, that if you do this concert, and charge, maybe seven – eight – even ten bucks a head, we can kind of split the profits . . . Schooner Bay gets 40 percent of the take, you get thirty-five, AND your bus towed into town and fixed for free. I get the remainder — as sort of an agent's fee for coming up with the idea to begin with."

The Partridges turned and looked at each other. Logically, the idea made sense.

"Well . . ." Shirley said, drawing the word out. "When would you want to have the concert?"

"The twenty-sixth — day after Christmas," Claymore said briskly, sensing he had a deal. "Tomorrow is Christmas Day, and we can't possibly get the roads cleared until after that, and we still need to get the bus into town the day after the Christmas to be fixed, and you, and your instruments, to the theater, too." He rubbed his hands together. "Now what do you say? Do we have a bargain?"

"Where are you going to get a new axle that will fit their school bus on such short notice, Claymore?" Martha asked, trying to find a flaw in the plan. "I mean, it's not exactly like fixing a flat tire."

"From the town's old school bus," Claymore answered immediately. "You know . . . the one at the grammar school? The engine was shot, and we had to get a new one only six months after we bought the fire engine?" Martha nodded. "Well, the old bus has been sitting at the back of Abner's garage, and I've spoken to him — you know, he's on the city council, too, and he is almost certain that the axle from the old school bus will fit the Partridge's bus and if it doesn't, he knows how to make the adjustments."

"I see . . ." said Shirley, slowly. "And you say your town council has already agreed to this idea?"

"Absolutely." Claymore nodded again. "In fact, Deke Tuttle told me that he tried to see what was involved in booking you and your family here to begin with, but he could never get through to your agent. Then when he finally did, it was too late, and your concert schedule was full. Face it, Mrs. Partridge, Mrs. Muir. This is fate! Serendipity! Now what do you say? Isn't this a perfect idea? Everybody wins! You, the town, me . . ."

"Wait a minute!" Danny cried. "Forty percent for the town, 35 percent for us . . . that makes an agent's commission of 25 percent for you!"

"Don't I get something extra for hiking two miles in all this snow?" Claymore whined.

"No," said Carolyn, flatly.

"Claymore, you briny bilge-rat!" the Captain growled, making Candy jump and Laurie wonder what the problem was. "How dare you try to change the terms! I told you, 45 percent for the town 40 percent for the Partridges and 15 percent for you!"

"Standard agent's fee is 15 percent, Mr. Gregg," Danny jumped in again. "Unless you know something that Variety and the Wall Street Journal don't — not to mention Dun and Bradstreet."

"What do you know about Dun and Bradstreet?" Claymore asked. "You the acting agent for this group, or something?"

"Yeah," Danny answered. "And for your information, I have a lifetime subscription to the Wall Street Journal and Business Weekly. Do you?"

"Claymore, don't even answer the lad," the Captain grinned. "I'll tell you now that you'll never keep up with him. He'll be running circles around you in no time."

"We're getting off the subject here," Shirley said, looking impatient. "I have no problem at all with the idea of doing a show, since one way or another we will be here another forty-eight hours because of the bus and the roads anyway, but your terms are unacceptable."

"What terms WOULD you deem acceptable?" Claymore asked, nervously thinking of the news of the Partridges' arrival traveling and the possible show traveling all over town already. Darn, I shouldn't have jumped the gun and called the town council until the arrangements with the Partridges could be finalized.

"How about 15 percent for you, 40 percent for us, 40 percent for the town, and 5 percent for Carolyn?" Laurie asked. "After all, she's had to put up with us camping all over her house for the last few days."

"Not 'putting up with' at all, Laurie." Carolyn smiled. "It's been a pleasure."

"Very sweet of Laurie to offer, however," the Captain interjected.

"I'd rather see that extra 5 percent go to the seamen's home," said Carolyn. "As a Christmas gift. They need it."

"Make that 10 percent," Shirley added. "Five percent from our earnings. After all, we are getting our bus fixed, too."

Claymore nodded again. "Does that mean we have a deal?"

"Deal," nodded Danny. "And as it happens, I have a standard performing contract upstairs in my backpack. I always keep a blank handy. You never know when you night need one."

"Wait a minute, Danny," said Shirley, looking around "What about everyone else? Keith, Laurie, Chris . . . what do you say?" She turned to Carolyn. "And what about you? Are you sure you don't mind us imposing for another two or three days?"

"Are you kidding?" Candy burst out; "You guys are the most! Mom . . ." She turned to Carolyn. "Please? They aren't an imposition, are they?"

"Of course not!" Carolyn grinned. "As long as we get to hear you sing again, sometime soon."

"And get tickets to the show!" Jonathan put in.

"Tonight, I promise," Shirley said. "We'll need to practice, anyway! As for tickets to the show — that goes without saying." Then her eyes drooped. "Wait a minute! What about Tracy? She can't perform if she isn't feeling well."

"We have two days," Danny shrugged, "She has her medicine now, and if she's not better, and she can't perform, well, we're still the Partridge Family. Remember that time we had to sing without Chris when he had laryngitis?"

"Yes, Danny, I do!" Shirley said, snapping her fingers. "But Chris was still able to play the drums. Maybe we CAN work something out. If not — would the rest of us playing still be acceptable, Mr. Gregg?"

Captain Gregg nodded and disappeared and Claymore nodded also. "Absolutely. I'm sure there wouldn't be any problems in that area."

"Come on, Mr. Gregg," said Danny. "You get another cup of coffee, and I'll be right back. It won't take me more than a couple of minutes to find that contract. Be prepared. That's my motto! Mom, you need to stay — you'll need to sign the contract too, since I'm not old enough yet."

Claymore looked at Shirley. "Are you sure he's only ten?" Shirley nodded. "I have the oddest feeling that when I am talking to him that I am talking to a forty-year-old midget, not a kid." He shrugged. "Shame, too . . . I heard your manager wasn't traveling with you and thought maybe he was another of those do-nothing managers I've heard about. I thought I'd volunteer for the job, but I guess not, not with this guy around."

"Mr. Kinkaid is a groovy manager, he just gets a little uptight," said Danny. "He just needs a little more fun in his life, but we're helping him with that. Next year he promised to spend all of Christmas with us. Be right back!" Danny ran out of the room, followed by Jonathan and Chris.

Laurie and Candy excused themselves and headed out to the kitchen to see if Martha needed anything and Keith left also, saying he wanted to start planning the songs for the concert. Danny was back a few minutes later, contract in hand. The process didn't take long, and when they finished twenty minutes later, Claymore's head was spinning. So many legalisms, and other complex stuff, and the boy rattled it all off like nursery rhymes!

"Don't worry, Mr. Gregg," Danny was saying. "You keep at it. You'll get it. Just takes practice. I plan to make my first million by the time I'm twenty-two. I don't want to have to spend it when I am too old to enjoy it. You just follow those stock tips I gave you. Betcha I'm right. And really, you're better off not collecting that 25 percent commission for our gig. No profit margin there. All that would happen is you would get kicked up into a higher tax bracket and Uncle Sam would take the whole thing, and more even." Standing up, he shook Claymore's hand. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you." Seeing Jonathan, who had come downstairs to talk Martha into making another batch of cookies, he excused himself.

"Ho-ho! I really do like that boy of yours, Mrs. Partridge! He has a marvelous mercenary streak that I — "

"That I would like to discourage," Shirley smiled, and Carolyn rolled her eyes. Claymore would NEVER develop any couth. "I appreciate your thoughts, Mr. Gregg," Shirley continued. "It's been a pleasure meeting you and I am very much looking forward to the concert, but for right now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on Tracy." With that, she left the living room, and as soon as she was gone, The Captain appeared again.

"Thank you, Claymore. You have done your part admirably. We'll see you on the morning of the twenty-sixth then, when you are out helping the town get the roads cleared."

"The twenty sixth?" Claymore looked disappointed. "You mean I'm not spending the night?"

Carolyn gave the seaman an alarmed look. This was definitely not a part of the plan!

"Of course not! We're full up, as the saying goes. You better get moving. I imagine you can make it home faster than you made it here, now that you've blazed a trail. I'd expect in less than an hour, Claymore, my boy!"

"But . . ."

"No more sleep-overs, Claymore, unless you care to bunk down on the widow's-walk."

"Now, see here! If I freeze to death, where do you think I'll be haunting?" Claymore demanded, feeling peevish.

"If you freeze to death, you can't collect any rent, you penny-pinching mongrel," the Captain countered.

"Very true!"

"Well?"

"Oh, er, but . . ." Claymore was now heading toward the foyer.

"Go, before I send you to your icy grave!" the seaman bellowed.

"I'm going! I'm going!" Claymore said, grabbing his coat.

"You are welcome back here for Christmas dinner, if you feel like walking, Claymore!" Carolyn said, following him down the walk.

"Going, going, gone!" said the Captain, as Carolyn came back inside. "All in all, a good afternoon's work, my dear!"

**END PART TWO**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Title: It Happened One Christmas**_

_**Author: Mary**_

_**Rating: PG**_

_**Summary: One ghost, three Muirs, One housekeeper, one dog, six Partridges, not in a Monkey-Puzzle Tree, but stranded at Gull Cottage over Christmas. A Ghost and Mrs. Muir/Partridge Family Crossover.**_

_**Part Three**_

The next hour or so passed quietly. Shirley and the rest of the Partridge children were busy working on a play-list for the show on the 26th — all agreeing that they wanted a program just a little different from the concert tour they had just finished. Candy sat and listened to them for a while, suggesting her favorite songs, then Martha summoned her out to the kitchen, saying she and Jonathan needed to help her, if everyone was going to eat on time.

Carolyn was putting the last of the laundry away in the children's room when she heard soft voices coming from behind the almost-closed door of the master cabin. Daniel was speaking to Tracy in low tones.

"All right, my dear. I brought you your ginger ale and told you two lovely stories. It's time you cuddled up and tried to get some more rest."

"I don't WANT to," the child mumbled. "I want to be downstairs. Mommy and Keith and Laurie and Danny and Chris — they all get to be downstairs. Chris told me they're deciding what to sing for the concert. I want to help, too."

"The best way you can help is to stay in bed and rest and get well, honey."

"That's what Mommy says. Did she tell you to tell me that?"

"No, my dear. Only you can see and hear me, remember?"

"But — Aunt Carolyn and Jonathan and Candy can see and hear you, right?"

"Yes, and Martha, but none of your brothers or sisters or your mommy can." The seaman paused. "Only you, because you're special."

"That's neat," Tracy commented, and she yawned again. "I wish I had my tambourine. I'd play something for you."

"I would love to hear you, sometime," the seaman said softly.

"Can you sing?" Tracy asked. "You have a nice voice. I bet you sing good, too."

"Yes, Tracy. I can sing. But probably not the kind of songs you like. Would you go to sleep, if your brother came up here and sang to you?"

"No — he's busy with Mommy, and you said he can't see you so you can't go get him. Why don't you sing me a song?"

"Really, Tracy, you probably . . ."

"Please?"

"All right, I will, but you have to snuggle back down under those covers and shut your eyes."

"Okay," Tracy said agreeably. "Do you sing to your kids, too?"

"Hmm?"

"Candy and Jonathan."

Daniel nodded, deciding that trying to explain his special connection with the Muir family to the little girl would be futile. "Every now and again, when they are afraid of a thunderstorm, or don't feel well."

Carolyn started. Daniel Gregg sang? She'd heard him hum to the children occasionally, but sing? Really sing?

"All set, Tracy?" he was saying. "Now close those big beautiful brown eyes . . ." and softly, the seaman began to sing about the winds from Hush-a-bye Mountain drifting over Lullaby Bay.

"I know that song," Tracy mumbled. "It's from a movie."

"That's right, Tracy . . . Shh." Daniel continued the song.

Tears began to form in Carolyn's eyes. What a wonderful father Daniel would have been! IS, she thought. To Candy and Jonathan he IS their father.

Finishing, the last verse, the Captain adjusted the now-sleeping Tracy's covers, then turned around to face Carolyn.

"That was beautiful, Daniel," she said softly.

"Eavesdropping again, my dear?" he asked, an ever-so-slight trace of embarrassment in his eyes.

"No, I was just in the vicinity, and here you are."

"Ah. I am reminded of the first night you all stayed here in Gull Cottage — and you listened when I was talking to the children."

"Candy and Jonathan were asleep when you were talking to them, Daniel. You know that as well as I do."

"Yes, but I was talking to them, none-the-less, and you eavesdropped."

"First night, in a new house — just us and the friendly neighborhood ghost. Yes, I was listening to you — and now, Tracy is asleep. But if you would like to . . ."

"To share a glass of Madeira in the wheelhouse and talk?" he asked eagerly. "It's been a while — Carolyn. I would love to."

"I need to run down and tell Martha I am going to be otherwise occupied for an hour or so."

"You can get away?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Shirley and her children are busy deciding on songs for the concert, and Candy and Jonathan are helping Martha in the kitchen. One way or another, I can get away."

"You won't be missed?"

She shook her head. "No — they'll probably assume I am wrapping Christmas presents, or something."

"Excellent. I will meet you in the wheelhouse in about ten minutes, then."

**xxxxxxxx**

As promised, Carolyn was back in the wheelhouse ten minutes later.

"You look lovely, my dear," he said, eyeing the old fashioned, high-necked lace blouse she had changed into. "Is that new?"

"Thank you, Daniel," she flushed slightly. Why can't I stop blushing when he pays me a compliment? she thought. "It is, well, I mean it's not, but it is to me."

"You will have to explain that," he said, gesturing toward the love seat, where a low table was set with a lace cloth, two crystal goblets she had never seen before and the decanter of Madeira. Gratefully, she seated herself and watched as he poured two glasses of the amber liquid and then held one out to her. "Here you are, Carolyn." She blushed again at the seaman's tender use of her first name, and he looked at her curiously. "Is something wrong, my dear?"

"Nothing," she said, quickly, taking a sip from her glass. "Just ran up here too fast, I guess."

"I see," he answered, wondering what was really on her mind, but when Carolyn said nothing else immediately, he continued. "About your outfit? That lace is . . ."

"Very old," she nodded. "The blouse belonged to my great-grandmother. My mother sent it to me a few days ago with instructions to save its first wearing for something special, and I thought this afternoon was just that."

"It is indeed," he nodded. "You look enchanting."

"Thank-you, Daniel."

The two sat in companionable, silence for a few minutes, and finally the seaman spoke again. "Carolyn?"

"Yes, Daniel?"

"I — well, I wanted . . ."

"Yes?"'

"I wanted to tell you how . . . touched I was that you finally told me about Robert. I've often wondered whether the reason you never spoke of him was because you were still grieving him, or whether his death was just too painful for you to talk about, in some other way."

"Has your curiosity been satisfied?"

"I wasn't curious," he said quickly. "I was just wondering."

"For more than two years?" she grinned. "I think sooner or later 'wonder' would turn to 'curious'."

"Well, maybe I have been more than a little interested."

Carolyn laughed. There were still unanswered questions in his eyes.

"What is so amusing, dear lady?"

"That you still have questions, and are unwilling to ask them!" She took another sip of Madeira and put the glass on the low table in front of them, leaned forward and tilted her head to look up at him. Finally, she spoke again. "You have more questions, Daniel? Go ahead — ask away. I'm here."

"It's more — something I wanted to say, I think." He looked uncomfortable. "I suppose, well, I wanted to say again, that I am glad that you finally told me . . . well, everything. I understand more now about why you never talk about Robert, or have his pictures about anywhere. Da . . . uhm, blasted unusual, I always thought."

Carolyn nodded and reached for her wineglass. "The memories are still a little hard to handle at times." She stopped speaking for a moment and took another sip of Madeira. "I had decided that I was going to tell you about what happened soon, anyway, but, well, Shirley being here, even though she and Robert never met — I don't know. Telling you both at the same time just seemed right."

"I was rather wondering after you said what you did last night why you never — "

"Said anything about him before?" Carolyn looked at the seaman closely. "Daniel, why didn't you ask me? Anytime you wanted to, you could have asked — well, maybe not that first night, the night we met, but I rather hoped you might after Gladys and Harvey were married here, or maybe after Aggie visited, and we were arguing about marriage, being good or bad, or certainly after Robert's parents visited . . ."

"His parents . . . I take it they know nothing about . . . anything?"

Carolyn shook her head. "Not about Cheryl, no. Only that he went out to get cigarettes that night, and that he was killed."

"I rather assumed that," he nodded.

"So why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?"

"Ask me, Daniel. I just said I would have told you."

"I will never get used to twentieth-century women!" he blustered. "You've told me many times that you have a right to privacy, to live your own life . . ."

"Yes," she smiled. "And that means I don't have to report to anyone — rather like that tussle we had about Blair Thompson — that I would tell you what I want, when I wanted to."

"But . . ." he stood and threw his hands in the air. "You didn't tell me, even though it sounds like you DID want to."

"I did — I just had to make sure the time was right."

"I wish you had come to me sooner, Carolyn. You've made this house a home. Your essence is all over it, and I am eternally grateful to you." The seaman sat down again and looked deeply into Carolyn's eyes. "When you wish to talk — about anything, or everything, my dear I am always here for you. Always and forever."

"Thank you, Daniel." Carolyn had to whisper the words. "I'll remember."

"As will I, my dear."

There was a moment of silence, and then Carolyn spoke again. "I realized something — well, two something's last night when I was talking to Shirley."

"Hmmm?"

"I was thinking about what she said about this being a 'year of firsts' for them. This is the Partridge kids' first Christmas without their father, and Shirley's first with no husband, regardless what his character, to celebrate with."

The Captain nodded. "Actually, I did realize that." He looked at the beautiful woman thoughtfully. "Was it hard?"

"For me?" Carolyn asked. "Well, I . . . Candy and Jonathan were so little, I don't think they remember much about it, but for me, well it was difficult, yes, but the second year was harder."

"Really?" Daniel frowned.

"Really." She smiled. "I know it seems strange, but the first year you are braced for it — you've been facing a whole year of 'firsts.' First Easter, first Halloween, first birthdays, first Christmas, and people — especially family, remember it is, and help you over the bumps. But by the second year, everyone assumes you have 'gotten over it,' and most people forget. After all, the sun keeps rising and setting regardless. It would have been much harder for me if I hadn't had my parents' love and support to help get me through."

"I see," he nodded.

"Was it the same with you, Daniel? Losing your parents when you were young?"

The mariner shrugged. "My mother died when I was so small, and it was so very long ago, and times were different then. Admitting a weakness wasn't allowed, especially if you were a male. But yes, honestly, it was hard. I missed both my mother and father growing up, and I have often wondered what my life would have been like, had they both lived. I just hope . . ." His voice trailed off.

"What, Daniel?"

". . . That I have been an . . . acceptable replacement, filling the void of father in Jonathan and Candy's life, even if I cannot fill the void of hus . . ."

"Oh, Daniel!" Carolyn's voice shook. "So much, I can't even begin to tell you, and as for me . . ." She broke off again, not sure quite yet if she should voice what was in her heart.

"As for you?" the spirit queried, "Yes, Carolyn?"

"I wouldn't have my life any other way." Carolyn smiled and held out her empty glass. "I am sorry about one thing though."

"And what might that be, pray?" he asked, as he filled her glass again.

"I realized last night that Shirley and the kids being here did kind of change Christmas for us, this year," she whispered.

"And how is that?" the seaman asked, and for a moment, Carolyn wondered if her thought had not occurred to him.

"Oh, I was just thinking that this is the first year that we could have all celebrated together. Really, together. Everyone at Gull Cottage knows about you now. You know, the first year Candy and Martha didn't know you were here, and the second year Martha still didn't know . . . this year we could have all celebrated Christmas day together, and now we can't, and for that, I am truly sorry, Daniel."

"Well, I have a plan for that!" he winked, and the mood in the room brightened, as did Carolyn's face when she realized that the spirit had thought of the family celebrating together. "You know about Epiphany — Little Christmas, of course? January sixth, of the New Year? The day the three wise men reached the Christ Child and presented their gifts?"

"Of course," Carolyn nodded.

"I was thinking that perhaps we could set that day aside — or at least the evening — and have a small family celebration of our own — you know, as they did a hundred years ago. Just a present or two, you understand. Would that meet with your approval?"

Carolyn nodded. "It sounds wonderful. I'd like that very much."

"Of course, I WOULD very much like it if perhaps I can give you your Christmas gift tonight, since I won't be able to during the day tomorrow? Can you manage to get away again long enough for that?"

"Of course," Carolyn smiled, "And I have something for you, too."

Time slipped away from them as they continued to talk and plan and for the future and reminisce about the year that was almost over, and they were startled when a tap came on the door of the attic.

Martha poked her head around the door. "I'm sorry to barge in, but figured I better not holler from downstairs. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes, and Mrs. Partridge was wondering where you were, Mrs. Muir. I made some excuse but I think perhaps, you better . . ."

Carolyn sighed. "You're right, Martha. I should . . ." Martha left the attic and Carolyn turned back to the seaman. "Daniel, I . . ."

"You need to go, dear lady," he said regretfully, giving her a soft look. "I will see you and the rest of the family shortly." Carolyn lifted her eyebrows. "Invisibly, my dear, of course. For the singing!" he elaborated. "Naturally. I wouldn't miss it." Slowly, he faded from Carolyn's view.

**xxxxxxxx**

Christmas Eve dinner was served at six thirty. Martha's roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and homemade rolls were 'oohed' and 'aahed' over, and while everyone was eating, the Partridges told the Muirs and Martha about some of their adventures their first six months traveling on the road. Keith started with an insider's, (but not at all stuck up) version of what it was like to be a 'teen idol' — he made a face at the word — and before he was done, everyone was in tears from laughing so hard.

"YOU may think it's funny," Keith protested, "But really it's not! I even resorted to disguises a few times, and I bet you never have had to explain to your teachers that someone stole your homework because they wanted a souvenir."

Candy giggled. "Someone really did that? Golly, I might have THOUGHT about it, but I'd never have enough nerve. I'd rather ask for a picture, or an autograph, or something."

"Autographs are easier," Shirley nodded, "as long as people don't start getting carried away. When they do, we call it quits. Which reminds me . . ." She turned to Carolyn. "Do you think Mr. Gregg will want us to hang around after the show and sign autographs? I forgot to ask — we don't charge for them . . ."

"Still think we should," said Danny, under his breath.

"Danny, we've talked about this," Shirley added, a warning note in her voice. "But, as I was saying, we don't charge for them, but it does take a little time, and takes away from the number of songs we perform."

"Understandable," Carolyn nodded. "I can't speak for Claymore, but personally, I think the music would be better. I mean what are the chances you'll be out this way again?"

"I'd love to come back here for another tour," Laurie interjected. "Although maybe in the spring when the weather is nicer."

"Me too," said Chris, helping himself to more mashed potatoes. "Besides, if we wait till spring, Jonathan said maybe I could see him pitch for the Oysters."

"I'm not promising anything right now. I'd just like to finish this tour," said Shirley, glancing at Tracy, who was listlessly making a puddle of her mashed potatoes and gravy. The child was awake for dinner, but she wasn't eating much, and was still running a fever, although she said she felt better. "Sorry, Carolyn," she added, giving her friend an apologetic look. "This unplanned layover — seeing you again — it's all been marvelous — I just wish Tracy was in better shape."

"I quite understand," Carolyn smiled, looking at the little girl. "Tracy?"

"Yes, Aunt Carolyn?"

"Tracy, honey. Why don't you eat a little bit more and tell us what you like about singing?"

Tracy took a half a bite of mashed potatoes. "All of it," she said simply. "I like playing my tambourine, and I like singing, and I even liked it when the skunk took a ride on the bus."

"Skunk?" Carolyn laughed and looked at her friend. "You have a pet skunk as well as a dog?"

"Long story." Shirley shrugged. "A skunk snuck on board the bus one day when we were on our way to a concert and totally obliterated what we were wearing and our costumes with its smell. After running around all afternoon trying to get rid of the stink so we could make a benefit performance at a children's hospital, we ended up back where we started — smelly, and performing in an isolation ward. We made it in time not to disappoint the kids, though, and that was the important thing."

Laurie made a face. "That was awful, all right. I'll never forget taking a bath in tomato juice!" Candy giggled again, and Laurie did too. "That was the only way to get rid of the smell — and it worked, but it sure felt weird! Then that boy found Simone, who hadn't had a bath, and shoved him in our car, and we were contaminated all over again."

"It all worked out okay!" Keith added. "Kind of funny, now that I look back at it. We did solve the problem with our costumes though. Now we all have an extra outfit, and keep it wrapped in plastic, against incidences like skunks, rain, sleet, snow, etcetera."

They lingered over dessert and coffee. Martha's apple pie was declared magnificent, but when Carolyn and Shirley refilled their cups for a third time, the younger children excused themselves and made a beeline for the parlor. As Shirley, Carolyn, Martha, Laurie and Keith sipped their coffee, strange noises could be heard coming from the living room. Martha left for a few minutes, and came back laughing and shaking her head.

"Chris is trying to demonstrate the drums to Jonathan," Martha chortled. "And it's not going too well. Pardon me for saying so, Mrs. Muir, but I don't think Jonathan has any musical inclinations at all."

"Ah, but what he lacks in rhythm, he makes up for in volume!" Shirley laughed. "Truthfully, you never know, Carrie. Chris tried three different instruments before settling on the drums."

"I remember that!" Laurie smiled. "First he was determined to play the guitar, then the keyboard, and finally, out of sheer desperation he tried the drums and he was a natural. It was a noisy learning process, to be sure, though!"

"Speaking of noisy, are you sure it's all right if we practice again tonight, Carolyn?" Keith asked. "We really don't want to be a bother."

"Are you kidding?" Danny asked, coming back into the kitchen. "A private concert by the Partridge Family? Why, in California it would cost . . ." He broke off, seeing the warning look in his mother's green eyes.

"We've ALL been looking forward to it," Carolyn said, just as Daniel Gregg materialized into the kitchen. "We'll have to pop Tracy back into bed before too long. Martha, leave those dishes alone," she admonished the housekeeper. "You need to come and watch too. I'll help you get things tidy after the rehearsal."

"Correction. We'll ALL help!" Shirley said.

"You don't have to tell ME twice!" Martha chuckled as she untied her apron.

The instruments were already set up by the time the three adults, and one spirit, had made their way into the living room. Carolyn glanced around. Tracy, resigned to the idea of not playing, was curled up on one corner of the couch. Jonathan was seated on the floor in front of the couch with Scruffy, and Candy was sitting on a straight chair, nearer, but not in front of the group. She had her tambourine in her lap, Carolyn noticed, and Candy was already tapping it impatiently, waiting for the music to start. Carolyn and Martha seated themselves on the sofa with Tracy.

I thought we'd start with some of our more upbeat ones tonight," said Keith, placing his guitar strap over his shoulder. Then we'll get into a few more carols, and then maybe some new songs. "Ready?" He looked at his family. "One, two, three . . ."Appropriately enough, they began to "sing out to the people." It was true, their songs did help make things seem closer to being all right.

The group was off and running . . . Repeating a few songs from the night before (_I Think I Love You _after Candy pleaded) then after a few false starts, working through a few of the new songs Shirley and Keith had mentioned the night before — _Point Me in the Direction of Albuquerque _and _I'll Meet You Halfway_ becoming immediate favorites with their audience, and Daniel commented to Carolyn, invisibly, how much he enjoyed a tune Keith wrote called _I'm Here, You're Here._

Candy, Carolyn noticed, stayed in her seat, but had been beating time with her tambourine through almost every number — and when the Partridge family had started playing songs unfamiliar to her, the little girl still had the beat figured out by the second chorus, and had joined in.

"They are really very good!" the Captain commented as the final strains of _She'd Rather Have The Rain, _another new song Keith had written, faded away. "They are playing more . . . lively tunes tonight. I must say, their use of percussion and such is amazing, and I like their music very much, but I like the close harmony of their ballads the most. I wish they would try a few more of them."

Tracy, who was curled up on the couch with Carolyn, heard the Captain's comment. "Mommy, the Captain wants another soft song," she interjected.

"Shh . . . Tracy . . ." he cautioned. "Remember . . . ?"

"The Captain, Tracy?" Shirley asked, deciding to humor her.

"Yes, Captain Gregg." The little girl glanced at the spirit, and then back at her mother. "He wants a soft song. You haven't played _I Really Want To Know You_, yet."

Candy and Jonathan hid a smile, and Danny rolled his eyes. "Are we really going to . . . ?"

"Well, we haven't," Laurie agreed. "And I like that one — especially the harmony you sing, Mom. It's almost a solo, and you don't do enough of those, anyway."

Keith looked at his younger sister doubtfully. "You sure, Tracy? This might be the last one before we stop for the night. I thought you liked _Bandala_ the best."

"I want _I Really Want To Know You_," Tracy stuck her chin out.

Keith shrugged. "You got it, Trace. Mom? You ready?" And he started the soft guitar intro.

"You'll like this one, Captain!" Tracy whispered to thin air. And the Partridges began to sing.

_How could this young man have captured my feelings for Carolyn so well?_ Daniel wondered silently._ Knowing her secrets, what is in her heart and, yes, what is behind her lovely green eyes is my deepest desire. I do want to share her dreams and everything else, besides._

Disregarding the possible repercussions of what the Partridges might think of her staring off into blank space, Carolyn gazed into her Captain's eyes. Thoughts kept running through her mind: _' Music, the greatest good that mortals know, and all of heaven we have below.' Stand inside your soul, Daniel. I think tonight I have been given that chance, and I thank heaven for it. Nothing I could ever write expresses what I have wanted to say better than these words have. It's how I have felt about you from the day we met._

As the song ended, Carolyn forced herself to pull her eyes away from Daniel's face. The mood was broken, but unlike so many times in the past, when touched to the heart, Daniel Gregg did not move away, but instead strolled casually over to the fireplace, where he continued to watch the beautiful woman who had turned his house into a home.

"Sing _Jingle Bells_!" Jonathan cried, breaking the mood. Obediently, Keith began the familiar tune, Laurie picking it up on the keyboard and Chris and Shirley providing the back-beat of drums and vocals, and Candy, again filling in a few do-a-diddies with her tambourine. Signaling the Muirs and Martha to join them, the happy group continued to sing. Daniel couldn't help but join in, even though he knew that no one could hear him but Carolyn and Tracy — but the thought that those two could hear him made him happy. After three or four Christmas tunes, ending with _Sleigh Ride_, Keith broke off, claiming his throat was parched.

"You know, I think we're missing the beat here," Keith said, after drinking the water Martha brought to him.

"What?" Danny demanded. "I think it was a pretty good rehearsal, Keith."

"It was great," Candy agreed. "I've been having a groovy time."

"I have to say, I agree with Danny," said Shirley. "Which song do you want to go over again?"

Shirley's eldest shook his head. "No, Mom, I don't mean a song, literally, I mean we're missing something obvious here."

"What?" asked Laurie. "I don't get you."

Keith looked at Tracy, cuddled up next to Carolyn, on the couch, half-asleep. "Think Trace will be able to sing with us the day after tomorrow?"

Shirley shook her head. "I doubt it. She's still running a fever, and you've heard her cough. I called Doctor Griffith and gave him a progress report, but he said not to expect her temperature to be back to normal for at least another forty-eight hours, which means no concert."

Keith nodded his head. "That's what I thought you said."

"I still don't see what you are getting at," said Danny, wrinkling his nose.

"Simple!" Keith said, "Candy can play the tambourine instead."

"ME?" Candy started, jumping up, and dropping her instrument on the floor.

"Why not? You've been doing it all night."

"From a chair!" Candy protested. "I'd die up on a stage! I know it. I'd just die!"

"Actually . . ." Shirley drew out the word. "I think it's a great idea, and Candy, I said the same thing, but once I started performing, I didn't want to stop."

"But, but I'm not a Partridge!" Candy protested, flopping back on her chair again. "Everybody wants to see you guys, not me."

"We can adopt you as a Partridge for one night," said Laurie, firmly, walking over to where Candy was seated. "Can't we Mom? Carolyn?" she asked, turning toward the Shirley and Carolyn, and she placed her hand on Candy's shoulder. "Candy would be really great, and Mom, you know you hate playing tambourine and singing at the same time! She would be doing US the favor. Please?" She faced Candy again. "You can do it, you know you can, and I know you really want to."

"What about Claymore?" Candy asked doubtfully. "Will he think it's okay?"

"If that mealy-mouthed worm says anything untoward at all, I'll keelhaul him!" said the Captain, into Candy's ear, and the little girl's face brightened. "My dear Candy, Claymore is the least of your worries. You should do this."

"But what'll I wear?" she asked, feeling like there was already an answer ready.

"You can wear my spare outfit," said Danny, "I think we are close enough to the same size to get away with it."

"Please, Candy?" Danny and Chris said together, and then Tracy nodded her head.

"Please, Candy? I want you to. It's okay with me!"

"Okay." Candace Muir nodded her head. "I'll do it."

**Christmas Eve 11:30 p.m.**

It was after eleven before everyone had finally settled down for the night. Anxious to meet with the Captain and give him his Christmas gift, Carolyn waited impatiently for Shirley to finish with Tracy, who was not inclined to go to sleep, maintaining she didn't WANT to nap anymore, but eventually the child drifted off. Shirley was not far behind her. Candy and Jonathan had gone to bed willingly more than an hour before — Candy especially — now more excited about the day after Christmas, and the concert, than Christmas day and presents itself.

Carefully, Carolyn slipped out of bed and pulled on her robe, prepared to make some excuse, should her friend wake. She had managed to keep calm that afternoon when Daniel had mentioned it, but she was more than a little anxious for their late-night tryst to exchange Christmas gifts — convinced that this year she had a gift that was guaranteed to knock Daniel Gregg's socks off. Carefully, she pulled a flat, medium sized wrapped package from her dresser drawer and made her way to the attic on tiptoes.

Captain Gregg met her at the door of the attic holding two glasses of Madeira. "Merry Christmas, my dear, or almost-merry Christmas, I should say!" he said, handing her one.

"Merry Christmas, Daniel!" and Carolyn touched her glass to his.

"I take it Mrs. Partridge and the little one are sound asleep, then?" he asked as Carolyn made her way to the love seat and sat down. "How is Tracy doing?"

"Better, I think, except she's just sick and tired of being sick, as I would be," Carolyn smiled and tucked her bare feet up under her.

"I imagine you are tired, period," the spirit said. "You've had some rather late nights lately, what with one thing and another."

Carolyn nodded. "I rather thought the late night stuff Christmas Eve was over after Danny Shoemaker told Jonathan there was no Santa Claus."

"I did as well, but I will always believe in good old Saint Nick, in spirit," said the Captain, chortling a bit.

"When it comes to spirits, you are the one who would know!" Carolyn grinned and took another sip of her wine, then looked at the seaman in dismay. "Uh oh! Chris and Tracy still believe in Santa Claus! What am I going to do? I can't have them come downstairs Christmas morning and not have Santa gifts!"

Daniel Gregg raised a finger, stopping her. "Don't worry, dear lady, I already have the situation well in hand."

"I should have known!" Carolyn rolled her eyes. "What do you have in mind?"

"That would be telling," the seaman winked. "But, needless to say, my sea chest has lots of relics in it that I am more than happy to give to those who will appreciate them."

"Thank-you, Daniel."

"For what, my dear?"

"For being so sweet about having your home invaded, rock music and all."

"My dear lady, I told you, it's OUR home, I am not sweet, and the music is not that bad . . . it has a bit more of a beat than Tim Seagirt's songs, and I am still more partial to Mozart and Beethoven, but . . ."

"You're treating the issue lightly Daniel, but I know better, especially . . ." Carolyn broke off, thinking about the dream the spirit had given them the year before, where they were all back in his time, and wondered if the seaman had plans to continue the story-line THIS year, before the arrival of the Partridges. ". . . Anyway, I know we will be making it up later, but I am still sorry we have to leave you out of things tomorrow."

"I told you before, I really don't mind — I have had many holidays with no one. It's only been in the last three years that I . . . Carolyn, there is so much I want to do for you and Candy and Jonathan, and so little I can . . . blast it," he blustered. "Anything I can do for you is no sacrifice. Besides," he added, "I've grown quite fond of some of the Partridges' songs, especially that last one they did last night."

"That one was . . . beautiful." Carolyn said softly. "Amazing how some songs seem to say in so few words what I . . . people want to say, and can't."

"Indeed . . ." he said, quietly. And for a moment, the two said nothing. "I am most anxious to see Candy perform," Daniel finally added. "It should be something she, and Schooner Bay, will remember for a long time."

"Me too," Carolyn nodded. "It was sweet of Keith to ask her, and Laurie to insist. I hope everything goes well. I have to say that I'm a little nervous about it."

"As am I, but I'm sure she will do fine," the Captain said, and smiled. "I imagine it's her . . . every little girl's dream come true . . . to perform with everyone's favorite family?" He chuckled. "I'm already thinking of the look on Miss Penelope Hassenhammer's face!"

"Not to mention Jane Shoemaker's!" Carolyn laughed, thinking of her daughters' least favorite person, and her own. "Jane's usually the first to try and take charge when anything like a celebrity comes to town. Remember Rutledge Adams?"

"I was rather relieved that Candy didn't burn up the phone lines, calling all her friends with the news," Daniel added. "But I heard her tell Martha that it was . . . groovy? having them all to herself, and she thought it would be boasting to go on and on about it when she can't 'share them,' so to speak."

"Candy is growing up," Carolyn nodded. "I'm sure the concert will more than make up for not being able to 'share them,' as she says. Actually, I am starting to wonder if she prefers it that way. I think perhaps she does," Carolyn said thoughtfully. "I know she is fond of Laurie. I know I always thought it would be fun to have a big sister," and she doesn't seem quite so tongue-tied around Keith, anymore, either."

"Chris and Jonathan seem to be getting along well too," the spirit said. "That Danny is quite a character though." The clock on the attic wall struck midnight. "It's getting late, Carolyn," he said regretfully. "You should get back, before Mrs. Partridge misses you. I have a Christmas gift for you, however, now that it is officially Christmas." The spirit pulled a package out from under the love seat, and placed it beside Carolyn.

"And here's yours, Daniel," Carolyn put down her wineglass and handed him the flat package she had been holding in her lap. "This isn't really all of it. I have something else planned, but the weather kind of snarled things up. This is just sort of a start, if you will."

"Ladies first." Daniel gestured to Carolyn's present, and slowly, Carolyn pulled off the gold bow and cobalt blue paper, and pulled out a carved box. The top was heavily polished and inlaid in an intricate design of wood, ivory, and gold. "Oh, Daniel," she breathed. "It's lovely!"

"It belonged to my mother," he said quietly. "My father gave it to her on their third wedding anniversary. It seemed right, somehow, that considering this is our third Christmas together, that I should give it to you. Open it, my dear."

Slowly, Carolyn opened the lid, and music began to play — and not just any tune, but the tune Carolyn privately called her 'dream tune' — her waltz — the one she and Daniel had danced to in her dream when she was sick with Virus X — Ague, Daniel had called it, almost two years ago! How did Daniel . . . did he know what this tune was? Tears began to form in her eyes and Carolyn was touched beyond speech.

"Do you like it?" he asked eagerly, "I know it's old, but . . ."

"Daniel, it's beautiful," she said softly. "Are you sure . . . ? Your MOTHER'S . . . It's . . . it's perfect."

"That was my mother's favorite tune," he added. "I play it every now and then, and think of her. I hope you will play it, often."

"I will," she nodded. "It's absolutely wonderful. What a lovely gift! I'll treasure it always." Then she nodded toward the package she had given him a moment earlier. "Your turn." Lovingly, Carolyn closed the lid on her music box and stroked the lid softly.

Carefully, the Captain unwrapped a silver picture frame and peered at what the frame contained. "A letter, my dear? What . . . ?"

"Read it, Daniel," she nodded. "Look."

"_Random House Publications: Dear Mrs. Muir. This letter is to inform you that we herewith confirm the sale of Blood and Swash, the Memoirs of . . ."_ The seaman broke off, astonished. "Our book? They . . . you . . . my memoirs are going to be . . . ?"

Carolyn nodded happily. "Yes Daniel! You've finally done it! Your memoirs! Published! They should be out by the end of January."

"I can't believe it!" the seaman said, shaking his head. "But you're wrong, Carolyn . . . WE'VE done it . . . We wrote them together. At last! How long have you known?"

"I received the letter the same day Shirley and everyone got here," Carolyn explained. "I was going to tell you that night. I was saving it as a surprise between the two of us — sort of a private celebration first, then Shirley and everyone showed up, and I realized what fun it would be if I could make it a Christmas present." She laughed lightly. "You know you aren't the easiest person in the world to shop for."

Daniel stroked the frame and read the letter again slowly. "Random House. I can't believe it. Well, the advance you receive will certainly make life a little easier around here for a while."

"More than a while, I should think, Daniel!" Carolyn smiled again, and pulled another small piece of paper out of the pocket of her bathrobe. "I have the check here. I haven't cashed it yet." She handed the check to the seaman, and couldn't help but smile when she saw the seaman's eyebrows shoot up dramatically.

"That much?" he asked, astonished. "I had no idea!"

"And that's just the advance," she nodded. "There will be more, if the book sells well, and I'm sure it will."

"Do you have any plans for how you wish to spend the money yet?" he asked. "I know it's a personal question, but . . ."

"But you have every right to ask, in this case, Daniel!" Carolyn's eyes twinkled. "Well, I think it's bad luck to count my chickens ahead of time, but I am hoping somehow I can persuade Claymore to sell me Gull Cottage. Even part of this advance would be a good down payment, and once it's in my name, I can do what you've always wanted and leave a will making it a seamen's home."

"Oh, my dear!" Daniel was truly touched. "That's a marvelous idea, but willing it to the seamen isn't necessary anymore. You handled that situation quite nicely when you directed that Amateur Night production, in February, and earned the money to get the warehouse converted. They have a place now. Gull Cottage should belong to you and your children, and your children's children. God knows, I would give it to you if I could. I never would have left it to that numbskull, Claymore." The seaman sighed and stared off into space — and Carolyn wondered once more about the dream the Captain had given them the year before. It was a lovely dream! But, alas, it had ended too soon, and left far too many unanswered questions.

"Daniel?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I was wondering, this Christmas . . ."

"Yes, Carolyn?"

"Well, this Christmas, I . . . well, it made me think of last Christmas, and the dream you gave us. It was a marvelous dream, but with waking up and all, and Claymore coming over and the baby's parents being found, I'm not sure I ever told you what a wonderful dream it was, and, well, I've been wanting to ask you . . . ?"

"Carolyn, my dear, you're talking in circles."

"What . . . what if Shirley and everyone weren't here this year? Were you planning on . . . ?" Carolyn felt a flush come to her cheeks. _Blast. Would this man always make her blush?_ "Daniel, this Christmas, were you planning on continuing our dream from last year? Us . . . living in your time, and you and I . . . about to be . . . um, married?" Carolyn paused, and then plunged in again. "I was wondering, because . . . well, because you haven't mentioned the dream you gave us since last Christmas, and . . . well . . . I was wondering if maybe the dream . . . I . . . wasn't all you hoped for."

"Oh, my dear Carolyn, it was! It was all that, and more . . . that dream was . . ."

"Yes?"

"Carolyn, would you like to continue the dream this Christmas?"

"Very much," she nodded.

"Well then, perhaps we still can . . ."

"What, now?" she asked, startled. "Tonight?"

"No, dear lady, but, as I said, I was counting on celebrating with you all in some small way on Epiphany — Little Christmas. Perhaps by then I can plan a suitable sequel. I may even be able to surprise you with something more special than a dream."

"Daniel! What?" Carolyn asked, sounding like a child begging for a Christmas Eve present.

"You'll have to wait and see . . ." was all the spirit would say.

No amount of coaxing or cajoling from Carolyn would make him give her any more information, and after another hour of conversation, the spirit and the lady of Gull Cottage said their goodnights. Carolyn slipped into bed quietly, not waking Shirley, thinking, as she drifted off, that Three Kings' Day couldn't come fast enough.

**December 25th, Christmas Morning**

It seemed like only ten minutes after Carolyn had crawled into bed that a knock came at the door — tentative at first, and then more insistent. "Mommy?" It was Chris Partridge. "Mom! Can I come in? Guess what?" Chris opened the door without waiting for his mother's 'yes.' "Santa came! He really did!"

Shirley groaned and looked at the clock. Seven a.m.. Well, it was an hour later than last year! In the cot next to her, Tracy heard the word 'Santa' and began to wake also.

"Santa?" Tracy rubbed her eyes. "Mommy, you said he . . ."

"I know!" Shirley smiled at her daughter. "I thought he was delivering our presents to grandma and grandpa's house! Guess I was wrong, sweetie!" She threw Carolyn a grateful look. "What do you say we go downstairs and see what he brought, okay?"

Carolyn pulled on her robe and made her way to the door, where Chris was waiting, excitedly. Behind him were Keith and Laurie, bearing cups of coffee. "Sorry Mom, Carolyn!" Keith grinned. "I tried to get Chris to wait, but, well you know him! Presents are his middle name — everyone else is downstairs . . ." He handed a cup of coffee to his mother.

Laurie stepped into the room and handed the mug she was holding to Carolyn. "Martha has sticky-buns warming in the oven now," she said. "They should be ready by the time you get downstairs," she added to her mother, who was now getting a robe on Tracy, and making sure her feet were covered. In a sotto voice to Carolyn, she added: "The packages to everyone look so pretty! I can't believe you managed to get everything together so fast!" Kissing Carolyn on the cheek, Laurie headed for the door again. "Come on Keith, Chris . . . see you downstairs, Mom!"

"Come on, munchkin," Keith added, picking up Tracy and slinging her over onto his back, much to her delight. "Special treat for Christmas morning! Piggyback ride!" he galloped out the bedroom door and started down the stairs — Tracy squealing with glee all the way.

"Carrie, Santa Claus?" Shirley asked. "When did you . . ." Then she nodded. "I thought I heard you leave last night, but I . . . well, I was so tired that I dropped off . . ." She gave her friend a hug. "It really wasn't necessary! The kids would have understood!"

"Guess Santa Claus knew where to find you and the kids, AFTER all!" Carolyn responded, mysteriously, refusing to take credit for Daniel Gregg's doings. "Guess we better go downstairs and see what's what! And I, for one, don't want to miss out on Martha's sticky buns — they are sheer heaven!" Shirley started for the door — Carolyn following, but at the door of the Captain's cabin, after Shirley had exited, Carolyn turned back toward the French windows and whispered a 'thank-you, Daniel!' before following her friend downstairs.

The more adult members in the household drank another cup of coffee as the younger Partridge and Muir children investigated the contents of the stockings that 'were hung over the chimney with care,' laughing as they did so. Candy and Jonathan's stockings were the same ones they had had since they were babies, but Chris, Danny and Tracy were delighted when they found their own socks hanging from the chimney. They were filled with standard Christmas treats — candy, nuts, and tangerines, but Candy and Jonathan also had toothbrushes in theirs, and, as a special prize, Tracy and Candy found little figures made of seashells at the top of their stocking, and Jonathan, Danny and Chris whistles carved out of wood. Scruffy even had a stocking — one of Jonathan's — with a large bone inside.

Keith scratched his head. "You know, I may have to start BELIEVING in Santa again! Either he really DID visit here last night, or I slept a lot more soundly than I thought I did!" He glanced at Carolyn who was sitting next to his mother on the couch.

Shirley, nodded, looking at Laurie and Keith, and then Danny who was helping Tracy extract a walnut from the toe of her stocking. In a low voice, she turned to Carolyn. "I knew the older kids, even Danny would understand why Christmas Day would be a bit present-less, but I've been a bit worried about Tracy and Chris — Santa suddenly seems very real to me!"

Santa-ghosts are even more real to me! Carolyn thought, reaching for another sticky bun.

"Presents next!" cried Candy, diving far under the tree and pulling out a medium-sized oblong box. "Here, Mom! This is from me and Jonathan!"

"We made it ourselves," Jonathan added. "Candy drew it, and then we both did the — well, you'll see!"

"Hope you like it, Mom, 'cause we can't take it back!" Candy added. "The Cap . . ." Carolyn gave her a quick look, and Candy hastily amended, "we got some coaching on how to do it, but we've been working on it for more than four months!"

Carolyn unwrapped the box and pulled out a large piece of canvas, and unrolled it, unveiling a picture — a small schooner against a cloudy sky, done in layers of browns, blacks and grays — and highlighted in gold. The ship seamed to almost sail off the canvas.

"Candy, Jonathan . . ." Carolyn said quietly. "This is lovely! I can't imagine when you had time to do this! It's marvelous!" She touched the threads making up the 'rigging' gently. "This is really beautiful!"

"What is it?" Danny inquired, coming over to look. "It looks a little like . . ."

"It's a 'woolie'," explained Jonathan. "Seamen used to make them while they were out at sea when they didn't have anything else to do."

"Men like Captain Gregg — " Danny glanced at the seaman's portrait over the fireplace, " — did sewing?" He scoffed. "I don't believe it!"

"How so you think they repaired their sails, Danny?" Candy asked, patiently. "Or fixed their clothing when it was torn, or they need a button put back on? No girls on board ship!" she grinned. "I still think there should have been!"

"Oh," said Danny.

"There are a couple of other woolies in the foyer," Jonathan added. "You know, on the way up the stairs. Captain Gregg did them."

"How do you know that?" Danny demanded, unwilling to be outdone.

"The Captain probably told him he did," Tracy said is a small voice from where she was sitting with Shirley and Carolyn on the couch, she paused and then added. "I think it's neat!"

Carolyn gave her two offspring a quick hug. "Who's next?" she asked, changing the subject.

Keith unwrapped his 'Santa present' next, an old journal, filled, not with log entries, but handwritten poetry — all unsigned, and a note that said simply: "With your knowledge of music, I am sure that you can do something with these humble words. I look forward to you creating something beautiful with them."

"Cool," said Keith, as he started to scan through the volume. "This is great — where did you . . ." he stopped, remembering from where the gift supposedly came. "Some of these sonnets look beautiful . . . thanks, Car . . . I mean, I owe Santa BIG time for this! Odd, though . . ." he stopped and held the note against the journal. ". . . The ink is more faded toward the beginning of the pages than here toward the end, and the handwriting on this note is almost the same as the handwriting in the journal — and here — he added. I can't read in this date is a nine or an eight." He flipped through the pages again. "Wow . . . some of these poems are really . . ." His voice trailed away as he became absorbed in the book before him.

Shirley opened her Santa gift next — a carved figure of a mermaid sitting on a rock — then Laurie, finding a Marquisette pendant on a silver chain, and Chris, a set of bongo drums, with a note in the same handwriting as the one on Keith's present saying: "surely another type of drum won't make that much more noise." Martha tucked her new Irish linen, lace-edged handkerchief in the pocket of her apron immediately, saying she hadn't seen anything as beautiful since she learned to iron as a little girl — using her grandmother's handkerchiefs, and there were laughs when Danny opened his present — an "Eight-Bit" silver dollar dated 1825 — along with another note, again, in the same handwriting as the other two gifts saying simply: "This dollar is a good luck piece — I am sure it will bring you luck also. No man should ever be broke — think of it as the one dollar you should never spend."

"Carrie, you are much too generous!" Shirley leaned over and whispered. "These gifts are . . ."

"From a seama . . . from Santa." Carolyn whispered back. "Relax and enjoy them."

"Mommy, look!" Tracy cried, now on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. "It's a fan! An old-fashioned lady fan! I told Santa I wanted one, and I told my angel, but I never thought I would really, really get one!" Happily, the little girl leaned over to show her sister.

Candy and Jonathan went last — Jonathan finding a small saber in his Santa package, and Candy a Victorian cameo, made of ivory. The two siblings looked at each other for a moment and then smiled.

"Captain Gregg did all this," Jonathan murmured to his sister. "This was his saber — he's let me hold it before!"

"I know!" Candy whispered back. "He showed the cameo to me this summer — he asked me if I thought it was old fashioned! I told him I thought it was beautiful, but I didn't know he wanted to give it to me!"

"Pretty cool Santa you guys have here at Gull Cottage!" said Laurie, leaning over from her patch of floor near the tree. "Thanks for keeping the Santa gig going, you guys! We won't be able to give up the ghost for another few years or so, because of Chris and Tracy!" She gave the two a furtive 'thumbs-up' sign.

Candy giggled at Laurie's 'ghost' comment and dug her elbow in Jonathan's ribs. "I had to pretend for a year too!" she answered. "Its just something big sisters have to do!"

Carolyn opened her 'Santa' gift, a large conch shell on a wood base and smiled, thinking of her lovely music box upstairs — and then all the children, including Keith and Laurie, were handed another gift. Martha had been busy too. Everyone laughed when they realized her presents to the Partridges' was a goodly supply of cookies and fudge they had helped her make the day before. Then Candy and Jonathan opened their presents from their two sets of grandparents — mostly clothing, and a 'Twister' game from Brad and Emily Williams — tagged "This one is to share!" and Candy dug under the tree one more time. "That's it," Candy commented, backing out from where she had crawled under the tree, looking for more treasures. "All done."

"Not quite!" Laurie said with a smile. "We haven't given you guys anything, yet!"

"You and Martha . . ." Shirley turned to Carolyn, and then the housekeeper ". . . are just going to have to expect something nice from sunny California when we get back — there's absolutely nothing in the bus that is right for you two. You'll just have to wait and see . . ."

"With pleasure!" Carolyn smiled, and Martha nodded, also.

"These are for you, Jonathan," said Chris, pulling a small, thin package out from underneath the sofa. "I hid 'em here last night," he added, looking at Carolyn. Slowly, Jonathan opened the top of the package and pulled out a set of drumsticks. "I didn't know what you really wanted, and couldn't go shopping for you anyway, but you . . . well, you seemed to like my drums, and I thought you might like to start practicing with these," Chris continued. "You can always get the drums later."

Thunder rolled. Just a bit. Shirley looked up. Crazy Maine weather, she thought.

"Uh — his musical — er talents — don't really seem to be quite — there," Carolyn said to Shirley, giving the Captain's portrait a quick look.

"Trust us, he might be rough, but with practice, he can be good," said Laurie, and the thunder stopped.

"LOTS of practice," added Danny. "It takes time."

"I can't take these, Chris!" Jonathan protested. "You need them to play!"

"I have an extra set," the other boy insisted. "I want you to have these."

"Gee, thanks!" Jonathan started tapping on the coffee table immediately — with no regard to time or rhythm.

"Candy next!" said Keith, who had left for the kitchen momentarily. He came back carrying a small package, which he handed to the girl. "This is for you, Candy!"

Candy opened up the package quickly and gasped as she pulled out a tambourine — autographed by the entire Partridge family. "Ohhh, WOW!" she gasped. "It's really mine? To keep, and everything? Oh, boy! I can't wait to show everyone — boy, will, Penelope Hassenhammer be . . . This is so COOL!" Excited, she jumped up and started hugging every Partridge in sight — ending with Keith, who leaned over and kissed her in the cheek. Candy kissed the boy back without thinking, and ran over to Shirley, shaking her new tambourine as she went. Reaching her, she gave her a hug. "I can't wait to hang this up on my wall! It's going right over my bed! It will look perfect there — how groovy!" She stopped for a moment. "Oh, wow — can I play this one at the concert? Maybe I shouldn't. I don't want to hurt it!"

"Playing it won't hurt it — not for one night!" said Laurie, coming up beside her. "Just for the concert, anyway! We used a laundry marker to sign it. It shouldn't smooge, or anything."

Candy gave Laurie another excited hug and then her mother, then went back to her place by the Christmas tree and started stuffing torn Christmas wrapping, unbidden, in the trash can Martha had placed in the living room. "Let's help clean up, and then, can we go practice upstairs?" she asked her mother.

Carolyn nodded. "Yes, as soon as you all check with Martha and see if she has anything for you to do in the kitchen. Shirley, that was a brilliant idea!" Carolyn said to her friend, quietly. "You've made Candy very happy."

"Keith's idea, actually!" said Shirley, watching the various and sundry children tidy the living room.

In a few minutes, the room was clean again and all the Partridges and Muirs, except Tracy and Keith, were out in the kitchen, getting their various assignments from Martha. Christmas dinner was set for three p.m.

"Mom?" Keith asked. "If it's okay with you guys, may I be excused for a little bit? I know it's Christmas, but I'd really like to go work on my song again . . . I remember now Tim Seagirt said Without Her was based on an old-English poem he found . . ." He held up his 'Santa Present' — the poetry journal. "I think something in here may be just what I am looking for."

Shirley nodded. "Sure, Keith, as long as Martha doesn't have anything for you to do. But I wish you'd stop worrying about this song of yours — it will come."

"I'd really love to play something new for the concert tomorrow, though," her son protested, thumbing through the little volume.

"Keith, you've had writer's block, before — you're getting way too concerned. You'll make yourself sick over this, if you keep it up," his mother protested.

"Ah, Mom! I'm as healthy as a horse!" Keith laughed and kissed his mother on the cheek. "Give me two hours — If I can't crack it by then, I'll let it go for a while — okay?" Shaking his head, he headed for the alcove.

"Speaking of healthy, Tracy . . ." Shirley looked at her daughter. "It's time you took some more medicine and went back . . ."

"Mommy!" The cry was plaintive, and then the little girl let out another racking cough. "I don't want to go back to bed!"

"Madam — " Daniel Gregg appeared and looked at Carolyn. "I seem to remember that steam baths are good for loosening congestion — would that possibly help the little one? I'm no expert, of course, but it seems to me that might . . ."

"You know, I think a hot bath might help you." Shirley continued. "Loosen you up a bit. That and then something hot to drink wouldn't hurt at all." Carolyn blinked.

"That's what the Captain just said," Tracy giggled. "Okay, Mommy. Then can I come back down here? Candy said earlier she would read me a story."

Shirley felt the child's forehead again. "Uh . . . sure, Tracy. I think your fever's down from yesterday, but it's still not normal. Captain, indeed. One more day and I'm calling Doctor Griffith back." Daniel held a finger to his lips and vanished. "Come on, Trace . . ." Post haste, Shirley bundled her child away upstairs, and Carolyn was left alone in the living room . . . for a moment. Then Candy was back again, tugging at her mother's sleeve.

"Mom? What about the Captain?" she asked her mother, a worried frown on her face. "Isn't he left out today? Is he lonely? I feel bad . . . Maybe we should . . ."

"No, dear." Carolyn smiled and gave her daughter a short hug. "We're having Christmas with him on three Kings' day. Two Christmases for us this time. It's fine. He understands."

"Three Christmases." The look on Candy's face was pensive.

"Three?" her mother asked, puzzled.

"Tomorrow. I'm more excited about that than anything ever. But scared."

"You're going to do fine," Carolyn said, giving her daughter another squeeze. "And personally, I, for one, can't wait!"

**xxxxxxxx**

The rest of the day passed quietly. Keith, as he had promised, came out of the alcove two hours after he left the living room with a smile on his face — saying he had finally found the lyrics to his song, that the lyrics and tune couldn't be simpler, and that they could learn it the following morning once they all reached the Schooner Bay Little Theater.

The house was filled with wonderful smells that grew more terrific as the day commenced, and it suddenly seemed Christmas dinner couldn't come soon enough. It finally did, of course, and after a very filling turkey dinner and dessert (three different kinds), the entire crew helped Martha get the dinner dishes washed and the kitchen cleaned. Keith and Danny braved the weather outside, which they said wasn't bad at all, brought in some logs and lit a fire.

Jonathan and Candy insisted everyone try out the Twister game — which everyone did, except Martha and Tracy. Martha declined because she said she knew better, and Tracy because Shirley didn't want her to over exert herself. The steam bath earlier that day had helped, but the child was still coughing, which only confirmed the fact in Shirley's mind that there was no way, even if Tracy wanted to, she would be allowed to perform the next day. This last thought was a silent one, since it was a given, as far as the rest of the Partridges were concerned, that Candy would be filling Tracy's place at the concert the next evening.

After more games, including charades and a songfest with Martha playing the piano, Christmas Day drew to a close. Danny, Chris, and Jonathan fought valiantly to keep their eyes open, maintaining they weren't ready for the day to be over, but Candy, eager for the morning, made her excuses and headed for bed — Laurie not far behind her.

Shirley, carrying a sleeping Tracy, made her way to the main cabin shortly after that, and Carolyn followed them. Keith shut out the lights and retired to his berth on the couch. Daniel Gregg watched from the widow's-walk as midnight passed. In a few hours, Boxing Day — and Concert Day, would dawn at Gull Cottage.

**December 26th 1970**

If Carolyn thought the morning after Christmas would be awaited any less eagerly than Christmas morning had been, she was quickly corrected. Candy was up and downstairs by seven a.m., before Martha, normally the early riser of Gull Cottage, had even dressed. The housekeeper had appeared in the kitchen shortly after, made a pot of coffee, and started breakfast. Laurie, still sharing the room with Candy, surfaced next, followed shortly by Keith, with Shirley, Carolyn and Tracy trailing close behind them.

The rest of the crew dawdled just a bit. For Danny and Chris, performing was old hat, so the younger Partridges were in no hurry to get out of bed, and because they weren't, Jonathan wasn't either. Everyone made it to the kitchen table at last, however, and no sooner had they began to eat their breakfast of eggs, pancakes and bacon, than a knock came at the door.

"What on earth?" Carolyn got up and headed for the foyer, Shirley following close behind. "Surely, the snow plows can't be here already," Carolyn said to her, "Claymore phoned me Christmas afternoon and said not to expect anyone until at least ten!"

Throwing open the front door, Carolyn beheld Ed Peavey, handyman, Seth Jackson and Abner Dawes, maintenance and salvage, Stanley Williams, owner-manager of the best garage and repair shop in Schooner Bay, and Claymore Gregg. All the men but Claymore were holding snow shovels and beyond them, just past the stone fence marking the edge of the front yard of Gull Cottage, were three snow plows, a flatbed tow-truck, and the van from the hardware store, all still running, the smoke from their engines billowing out into the clear, crisp, December morning.

"Claymore!" Carolyn started. "You . . . you're here? Already? You said you . . ."

"Surprise!" Claymore grinned. "You're right, Mrs. Muir, Mrs. Partridge, that is what I said, but, well, we . . ."

"Truth is, Miz Muir . . ." Abner drawled, ". . . my daughter, Susan, had me up at five this mornin'. Kept tellin' me we couldn't keep . . . Keith, and the rest of the group, here waitin'." He shrugged. "She wouldn't give me no rest, so I figured I might as well call Seth, Stanley and Ed, and get things movin."

"Wasn't any big deal," Stanley said. "I usually have the garage open by seven, anyway, and Abner's daughter, called my girl, Maggie, who was already awake and botherin' me, and . . ."

". . . and Maggie called MY daughter, Kathy," Seth finished. "So I was up, too."

"And I called Ed," Claymore finished, "and pried him out of bed, and . . ."

"Claymore! You know darn good and well I woke you up!" Ed grumbled. "Deke Tuttle called me, because Doris, Deke's wife, woke him. She and the rest of the PTA are over at the theater right now, tidying and vacuuming, and such, so everything looks just so before you all get into town to start rehearsin." Ed tipped his hat to Shirley Partridge.

"Well . . ." Shirley began, " . . . this is all just so very . . . well, what do you want us to do, exactly? My son, Keith is still eating breakfast. He . . ."

"Nonsense, Mrs. Partridge! May I call you, Shirley?" Claymore began. "And I'm C.G., don't forget! We can't take a chance in damaging the talent, don't you know! You all are artists! Would do for you all to stoop to manual labor — oh, no, never! Besides, so far we only have the road between here and Schooner Bay cleared." He snapped his fingers at Ed, Abner, Seth and Stanley. "My crew has to get your bus dug out of the snow first!"

"WE, Claymore?" Ed drawled. "You didn't do nuthin' but drive the van in from town, after Seth, Stanley, and Abner cleared the road, and I drove the flatbed tow-truck!"

"That took some doing," Claymore defended himself. "I'm not used to driving a van."

"After drivin' that old rattletrap car of yours, Claymore," Stanley interrupted, "That van is a Cadillac."

"Now then, Shirley . . ." Claymore continued. "My men here will have your bus out of that ditch in a jiffy . . . then they'll load it on the flatbed, and . . ."

"US, Claymore?" Seth spoke up. "What about you? So far, you haven't done a thing, except give orders!"

"Someone has to be the Captain," Claymore protested. "And that's me."

"Correction, you goldbricking sea-slug!" boomed Daniel Gregg, inaudible and invisible to everyone but his supposed great-nephew. "I am the only Captain here at Gull Cottage, and don't you forget it!" Claymore felt a jerk around his neck and Seth blinked, as the snow shovel he was holding seemed to fly from his gloved hand to Claymore's. "Go, you watery-eyed barnacle! You want to be a Captain, start acting like one! Be a leader! Make tracks to that bus and start digging! Now!"

Claymore practically flew down the walk. "Guess I'll get started right away!" he hollered over his shoulder — "We'll have the bus . . . Ow! I'm going! I'm going! Don't rush me! . . . dug out in no time, Shir . . . Mrs. Partridge!" Now starting down the road to where the bus was still buried in snow, Claymore's voice was fading fast. "Abner, Seth, Stanley! Come on, you guys! Do I have to do everything! Help me out here . . . I know! I know! I'm moving, already! Sheesh!"

Ed gazed at Claymore's retreating figure and rubbed his chin. "The things that man won't do for a dollar!" He shook his head, and turned back to the three men, still standing on the porch and the two women in the doorway. "Seth, Stanley — if you don't mind, why don't you follow 'heap big chief' and see what's doin' with the bus — Abner, why don't you and me see what we can do about loadin' up Mrs. Partridge's musical equipment?" He nodded at the two women. "You packed it all up last night, right? Now you two ladies go on and finish your breakfast. Ain't nobody goin' nowhere 'til the bus is out of the ditch. Mrs. Muir, is Mrs. Partridge drivin' her family to the theater in your car?" Carolyn nodded. "Well, then by the time the bus is loaded, you all will most likely be through with breakfast. Then we'll get Mrs. Muir's car warmed up, and you and your family can follow our little caravan back into town, right to the Schooner Bay Little Theater."

"Sounds pretty good to me!" Shirley grinned.

"Sure we can't offer you a cup of coffee, Ed?" Carolyn asked.

"That'd be great, Mrs. Muir!" Ed winked. "Suppose I better wait a mite though." He pulled his coat collar up around his neck. "It'd be better if I get the instruments taken care of, and then see what "El Capitan" is up to. Then coffee for everyone would be very nice!"

"The instruments are this way," said Carolyn, leading him inside.

**xxxxxxxx**

It took more than forty-five minutes to dig out the bus and make a path for the flatbed, and then drag the psychedelic bus out of the ditch, and load it — and that was with Keith helping the other men shovel. Ed and Abner had joined the rest on the project after Keith had mentioned, again, that he didn't want the instruments sitting outside in the cold any longer than absolutely necessary. After the bus was loaded, the crew from town made short work loading the musical instruments in the back of the van.

While the men were outside working, Carolyn had received a call from Millie, the Schooner Bay telephone operator, saying that the roads and highways leading away from Schooner Bay, and Maine, were also being cleared, and that in all likelihood, the Partridge family would be able to leave for Philadelphia the next day as planned, where they would finally be able to celebrate Christmas with Shirley's parents.

By the time the men were through with the bus and the instruments and everyone had finished breakfast, Shirley had re-Vick's and medicated Tracy one more time, and tucked her back in Carolyn's bed. Surprisingly enough, Shirley thought, the little girl was gracious about not being able to come into town with the family, and insisted, before Candy left, on personally handing the older girl her own favorite, cherished tambourine — almost as if she were passing over the baton in a relay race.

Although chomping at the bit to get started, Candy snuck away long enough to find the Captain, who was in the attic, to bid him goodbye, and then, downstairs, gave Jonathan, Martha and her mother a hug, promising to tell them everything that happened while she was in town. Amid cries of "be good's" and "be careful's" from the Muirs and Martha, and barks from Scruffy, the group took off, three snow plows, the flatbed and the van, behind and in front of the station wagon, guarding the Partridges every foot of the way.

**xxxxxxxx**

Carolyn sighed. An hour had gone by, and she just wasn't concentrating at all. After the gang had left, she had moved her typewriter, typing paper and research notes for her next article down to the alcove where she could try to get some work done without disturbing Tracy, who, Daniel reported, had fussed only a bit before falling back to sleep; placated by two more stories, and him singing her another lullaby. Martha had a batch of cookies in the oven and was trying to get the ironing caught up while watching her 'soaps' — grateful for the peace and quiet.

"Blast." Carolyn yanked another piece of paper out of the typewriter, crunched it up into a ball and made a 'basket' into the ashcan by the wall.

"What's wrong, Mom?" Jonathan asked, popping his head around the doorway immediately, as if he had been waiting for a chance to catch his mother's attention.

"Oh, nothing, sweetie, just can't concentrate. Too nervous about tonight and wondering what Candy and the rest of the kids are doing, I guess. What are you doing down here? I thought you said you wanted to work on your model."

"I do, but I couldn't concentrate either," Jonathan sighed. "It's too quiet around here."

"I think that's the problem!" Carolyn grinned. "It has been noisy around here for the past few days — quite a change!" She gave her son a curious look. "You ARE all right, aren't you? Not sorry you aren't in town singing with Candy and everyone?"

Jonathan scratched his ear, looking, for a moment, a bit like Captain Gregg when he did the same thing. "Maybe just a little," the boy frowned. "Even though I know it's dumb to think like that. I can't play an instrument, and I can't sing, and really, Candy is more hung up on that stuff than I am, even though I do LIKE the Partridges, a lot." He sighed again. "Chris asked me if I wanted to come and watch, but that would be dumb, because all I would be doing is sitting there for four hours, and I could do that at home, so I decided to not go. Besides, I think I'd really rather be surprised tonight."

"I think that was a very smart thing to do, Jonathan." Carolyn smiled and gave her son's blonde head a tousle.

"Aw, Mom!" Jonathan brushed her hand away, embarrassed, but Carolyn could tell he wasn't too upset. "Still doesn't mean that I'm not bored!"

"Well, I'm not accomplishing anything here, either," she grinned at her son. "Would you like to do something together? We have a few hours before everyone gets back for dinner, and all."

"Sure!" Jonathan brightened. "Like what?"

"Good question." Carolyn nibbled on her thumbnail, deep in thought. "It might still be a bit cold to take a walk on the beach — Double Solitaire? Chinese Checkers, maybe?"

"Naa." The boy shook his head again. "I've been doing stuff like that for three days now. And I don't feel like Twister, either."

"How would you like to go ice skating, Jonathan?" Daniel Gregg appeared, carrying Jonathan's skates. "I've checked. The pond is frozen solid."

The boy's eyes lit up. "That would be neat, Captain!" He looked at his mother and then back at the seaman. "What about Mom?" His face fell. "I already asked her to do something with me."

"What ABOUT Mom?" Carolyn grinned.

"You want to go skating?" Jonathan looked at her doubtfully. "Really?"

Daniel Gregg lifted his eyebrows. "You, my dear?"

"Well, now I'm hurt!" Carolyn gave the two a playful pout. "And just what makes you think I can't ice-skate?"

"Uhm," said Jonathan.

"Well," said the Captain.

"Because you never have before now?" Jonathan asked.

"I must say, the lad has a point," said the seaman said, nervously tugging his ear. "I don't think I have ever seen you on skates either."

"I used to ice-skate at rinks all the time when I was a teenager," Carolyn sniffed. "And I'll have you know I won two medals for our college team. Mother just sent me my old skates last week. She found them when she was clearing out the closet in my old bedroom. She had them cleaned up and whatnot, and sent them to me and said she thought I'd get a charge out of seeing them again."

"I dunno, Mom," said Jonathan. "What if you fall down?"

"If I fall down, I'll get back up again," his mother laughed.

The Captain scratched his chin. "I'm not sure about this, my dear."

"What is it, Captain? Mad because you can't skate, too?" she added, teasingly.

"Who says I can't skate?" Instantly an old-fashioned pair of ice skates appeared, slung over the seaman's shoulder. "I'll have you know, dear lady, that your children aren't the only ones who have skated on that pond! I've been skating there for more than a hundred years!"

It was Carolyn's turn to be surprised. "You have? But you're a . . . well . . . how . . . ? Never mind," she shrugged. "I don't want to know. Give me a few minutes to go change into something suitable, and tell Martha where we are going so she can keep an ear open for Tracy."

"Fifteen minutes?" the seaman asked, pulling an old-fashioned pocket-watch out of his jacket pocket and glancing at it.

"Fifteen," she answered, and mentally, she crossed her fingers that the new skating costume her mother had sent along with the skates would fit.

"Fifteen it is," he nodded.

What a lovely day this is going to be! Carolyn thought, and she headed toward the stairs.

**xxxxxxxx**

Carolyn smiled to herself as she walked back toward Gull Cottage, remembering the day she had just had with Jonathan and Daniel. For starters, the weather had warmed up a bit between the time the men had arrived for the bus and everyone had left for town, and there was almost no wind a short while later when the three made their way to the small pond near the house.

The spirit of Gull Cottage had been . . . well . . . impressed, for lack of a better word, at her appearance after she had put on her skates and removed her long winter coat.

Silently, his blue-eyed gaze had started at her feet and worked its way up to her face. Her outfit was made of cobalt blue wool. The top was long sleeved, with an ever-so-slightly-scooped neck, and trimmed with white fur. There was a short skating skirt that swirled as she moved, trimmed the same way, and to go with the ensemble, a short, woolen cape with a small hood, matching the rest of the costume — it, too, trimmed around the face and bottom in fur. Matching gloves and tights, in a slightly lighter shade of silvery blue finished the ensemble, and there were small silver bells tied to her skates.

"You look . . . wonderful," he had said, finally. "Skating costumes have certainly changed since MY day! Are you sure you won't be too . . . chilly?"

"Thank-you!" She had smiled back, suddenly feeling anything BUT chilly. "I'm fine. This . . ." she had gestured to her outfit. " . . . Is quite warm! Not at all a 'low-cut handkerchief!' But it must be quite a change from the high necked, long-sleeved, long-skirted, seal-muffed outfits the ladies of the 1860's had to wear!"

The seaman had looked back at her then, saying softly, "It's not the dress, it's the wearer. You, Madam . . . you would look like a queen if you were wearing a burlap sack."

For a moment, Carolyn had thought Daniel was going to offer his hand to escort her down the embankment to the pond, but he had pulled himself up short, then disappeared, reappearing in the middle of the frozen pond, daring her and Jonathan to catch up with him.

Time had flown after that. The late morning and early afternoon had become a whirl of figure-eight's, axles, leaps, races, and only a few falls . . . and, much too quickly, it seemed, Daniel Gregg had reached into his pocket, had pulled out his watch, and had announced that it was after three, and if she and Jonathan wanted to be back at the house before Candy and the others returned, they had better "hurry along." He had been right, too. The Muir's station wagon came up Bay Road as the three walked up the other way. Daniel disappeared, and Jonathan and Carolyn met Shirley and the others just outside the stone gate.

"Beautiful outfit, Carrie," Shirley said. "You look marvelous! I take it you and Jonathan weren't too bored without us?"

"Not at all," Carolyn shook her head. "It's been a perfect day so far, and now I am looking forward to an even better evening!"

**xxxxxxxx**

"Welcome back, Mrs. Muir!" Martha smiled broadly as she opened the door. "Did you and Ca . . . Jonathan have a good time?" she covered. "Hello, Mrs. Partridge. Hi, kids!" she waved at the rest of the party. "Jonathan, don't forget to hang up your coat. Same goes for the rest of you! Cookies and hot chocolate are in the living room. Tracy is awake. She's in there, waiting for you."

"Thanks, Martha!" Laurie gave the housekeeper's arm a squeeze as everyone trooped by and made their way inside.

"Mom, I can't wait for you to hear us sing tonight!" Candy glowed at her mother as she sat down in the living room. "Keith's new song is the most! But it was easy to learn, just like he said."

"Told you," Tracy commented. "Keith writes great songs. People love to sing them."

"Thanks, Trace! Candy has a natural ear," Keith added to Carolyn as he poured himself a cup of coffee and helped himself to a sugar cookie. "You have the piano — bet Candy would pick it up in no time, and if that's not her thing, she really ought to join a choir, just as soon as she can." He sat in the rocking chair and took a swallow of his coffee. "I really mean it, Candy," he added. "Talent like yours shouldn't go to waste."

"Thanks, Keith!" the girl answered. "Choir, or another singing group would be neat, Mom," Candy went on. "There are two at the junior high — the mixed choir, and a new one they are forming called The Northern Lights — they do more popular stuff, and they dance, too. Miss Tate, the choir director, was at the theater today when we got there. She was a part of the cleaning crew. She told me she wants me to try out, next year."

"That's fantastic, honey!" Carolyn commented, sipping her coffee. "I interviewed Miss Tate for the _Schooner Bay Beacon_ a little while ago. She has a reputation for being one of the best music directors in the state."

"That's what Miss Stoddard said!" Candy giggled. "She was at the theater too. I'm looking forward to it already!"

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Shirley asked her daughter, who had curled up next to her on the divan.

"Fine," said Tracy in a small voice. "But it was lonesome today."

"I think she's better, too," said Martha, and she turned to Carolyn. "She woke up once while you thr . . . two were gone, and we read a story, and then watched TV for a little while. I took her temperature and it's gone down another few points." Martha looked at her watch. "That was about an hour ago."

The Captain appeared to Carolyn and stood beside the sofa, near Tracy. "Good," he commented. "It looks like that blasted medicine is starting to take hold. Willow Bark would have been faster." Carolyn shot him a look of . . . warning? or was it something else? And he stopped his tirade before it started.

"What about you guys?" Carolyn queried, turning to Shirley. "Are you going back to practice again before the show?"

"Naa," said Danny. "Everything's perfect. If we practice any more, we'll be over-practiced."

"Besides, we need to rest our vocal chords a bit," said Chris.

"I think if we get to the theater about six-fifteen we'll be fine," Shirley nodded. "Just enough time to check the instruments again. Mr. Gregg — C.G., I mean, gave me the key to the theater and said I could give it back to him tonight. And the PTA ladies said they plan on a small coffee and cake reception after the show."

Martha rolled her eyes. "Was it Mrs. Post, by any chance, the lady who talked to you?" Shirley nodded. "Then it will be anything but small. I imagine the ladies'll make a big thing out of it — they do it every time!"

"She asked if you were bringing your chocolate chip cookies, tonight," Shirley said.

Martha nodded. "Yes. Mrs. Tuttle phoned me here after you left."

"Reception . . . Guess that means autograph signing, too," said Keith, resignedly.

"Could be worse," Chris added. "That Mister Gregg was saying if he had more time that he could have sold t-shirts."

"Heaven forbid!" Carolyn laughed.

Jonathan shook his head. "I still laugh when I think about our theater, though."

"Why?" Chris asked. "It's got great acoustics."

"It's soundproof, too," said Danny. "As we left, I heard some girl say they had tried listening all day and couldn't hear us sing at all."

"But the lighting system needs a little work," Laurie added. "More gels, and another spotlight might be nice, and we had to get a little creative when it came to plugging everything in, but for one night, and things being what they are, it's livable."

"What did you mean, Jonathan?" Chris persisted. "Why do you want to laugh?"

"Oh — 'cause that place used to be a cod liver oil plant," Jonathan explained. "Claymore owns it, and had it converted into a little theater. Mom was in a show there a couple of years ago."

"Eww . . ." Chris made a face. "I'm glad it doesn't SMELL like one any more."

"A show?" Shirley asked. "Carrie, I didn't know you were in to acting."

"I'm not — I mean I wasn't," Carolyn explained. "Claymore asked me if I would, and I wasn't going to, but, well, I . . ."

"I forbade you to do it, so of course you did the opposite!" the Captain smiled, shaking his head. "I should have learned my lesson then, but of course it took me a few more times before the message began to sink in."

". . . I was sort of dared into it," Carolyn said graciously, glancing at the seaman. "So I ended up acting in it, after all. The lead, no less."

"I did all the behind the scenes stuff," Martha recalled. "Wardrobe mistress, props, sound effects, general "go-fer" — next time Claymore asks me, if he ever does, I'm hiding in the cellar until he is gone. That show was a disaster from beginning to end."

"Claymore lost money?" Danny asked. "Bet he must have hated that."

"Oh, no — " Jonathan cut back in again. "Mom told me. He wanted the play to be a big dramatic thing, but after all the goofs and the sets falling apart, the audience thought it was a comedy, and everyone loved it."

"Sounds like it would be funny to see," said Laurie. "Did you ever find out what happened? Why the problems?"

"Nope," Martha grinned and snuck a sly look at Carolyn, who gave an equally surreptitious look to the Captain, and Tracy looked in the seaman's direction as well, and grinned. "At the time, we were all just glad the show was a success, after all."

"Was it really funny?" Chris turned back to Jonathan.

"Dunno," said Jonathan. "I heard it was. But it was at night, and we were just kids then, and didn't get to go."

"Still don't think that was fair," Candy commented. "We got to go to the rehearsals. But yeah, Mom hired Nancy Reed to baby-sit us." Candy stopped abruptly. _I can't believe I just said BABY-sit! _she thought. "And the show only ran one night," she added quickly. She glanced at Keith, wondering if he had noticed the comment, but he hadn't seemed to. "So that was that . . . of course Mom doesn't use sitters any more. We're too grown up."

"Besides," Jonathan added. "Martha or the Ca — " he broke off. "That kind of thing doesn't happen too often. Someone is usually here." Shirley's hand flew over her mouth.

"Baby-sitter!" she gasped. "Blast it, I am an idiot! What about Tracy?" She looked down at the little girl beside her.

"What about Tracy?" Jonathan asked, bewildered.

"Who's going to stay here and look after her if we're all at the concert?"

There was a beat, and everyone looked at everyone else.

"Hire a babysitter?" Danny asked, but he looked bleak.

"Not a chance," said Candy. "I talked to Mr. Hampton — he's helped Claymore with the advance ticket sales. I think everyone in town is going to be there tonight . . . especially anyone between twelve and sixteen — and lots of others, too."

"Miss Stoddard, maybe?" Carolyn said doubtfully. "She's on the fussy side, but I trust her implicitly — she's probably OVER-take care of Tracy."

Candy shook her head again. "Sorry, Mom. Believe it or not, Miss Stoddard is coming to the concert! She showed me her ticket this morning. She's really excited about it."

"I don't believe it," said Jonathan, nonplused. "Old Maid . . . Miss Stoddard? Why?"

"She told me she has been trying to get more 'with it'," Candy giggled. "Her brother and great-niece have been visiting here over Christmas. I guess it's made her think a bit. Now she's trying to get more into new things." Candy paused. "I think it's groovy. Little too late for me because she's not my teacher anymore, but still neat."

"Well, I guess the best thing to do is I'll stay here and take care of Tracy," said Martha. The housekeeper smiled bravely, but anyone with half an eye could tell that she was disappointed at missing the show. "After all, I've heard you sing here — like Danny said, 'a private performance by the Partridge Family — what more could anyone ask for?'"

"No way, Martha!" Laurie protested. "We're counting on you being there!" The other Partridges nodded.

"It wouldn't be the same without you, Martha," Jonathan added, giving the housekeeper a soulful look.

"I wish there was something I could do," said the Captain to Carolyn, who, until now, had been relatively quiet. "I wonder, Martha said Tracy's fever is down, and she hasn't been coughing as much, maybe of you bundled her up well and she stayed nice and warm, she could go? It would only be for a couple of hours, and it is warming up outside. Tracy should be in town with her family."

"I want to come," Tracy stated flatly, looking first at the seaman, and then at her mother. Shirley's eyes were doubtful, then Tracy added: "If I can't go, maybe the Captain can stay here and baby-sit me and that way everyone else can go?"

The seaman shook his head to the little girl as a reminder, but smiled.

Startled, Shirley looked at her daughter. "Captain, Tracy?" and then to Carolyn she added: "See? Tracy is still seeing her Captain, so she still has a fever."

"She's down to ninety-nine, actually," said Martha. "That's almost normal."

"Jonathan said there was a Captain here for a while," said Candy, not adding that it turned out her brother was right all the time. "I think the Spirit of Captain Gregg is here, even if he CAN'T be seen." She gave her brother a surreptitious wink. "After all, he lived here and died here, and like Mom said a long time ago, the thoughts and feelings of a brave man don't die with him, they live on. I think maybe that's what Tracy means?"

"I know I sure wish HE was really here!" Laurie exclaimed, dusting her hands free of cookie crumbs. "His portrait is magnificent — that reminds me, I almost have my drawing finished. I want to get that done this afternoon before the show."

"So, what about Tracy, Mom?" Keith asked. "I think she should go. Whether she is singing or not, she should be there."

"She'll sit with us," Jonathan added. "And if you want to make sure she says warm and stuff, I'll bring lots of cough drops, and I won't let her take off her coat. She'll stay warm!"

"I don't think that will be necessary, Jonathan," Shirley smiled. "Well, maybe Tracy should go — she probably should get out a little before we all get on the bus tomorrow. It would give her a chance to get her sea-legs, as it were." The blonde frowned for a moment. "Now, why did I say it that way?"

"Sounds like you've picked up a little slang, Shirl," Carolyn grinned. "We say it all the time . . . well? What do you say?"

Shirley looked at her daughter's big brown eyes and then at the rest of the group and shrugged, resigned. "Okay, Tracy. You can go." The little girl looked pleased, then her mother added: "One more nap between now and then, okay?" Tracy nodded and then her mother said, "I might even join you. I do better if I can catch a wink before a show, anyway."

"Sounds like a plan," Carolyn nodded.

"I think so, too," Martha agreed, and the others nodded their heads. "I'll have a light supper ready about a quarter to five — that should give us enough time to eat, and drive into town. Ed called, by the way, Mrs. Muir. He'll be here about five-forty-five, with Mr. Hampton's car. No way to fit all ten of us in the station wagon! Your bus is all fixed and waiting in front of the theater, Mrs. Partridge," she added. "You can drive it back here tonight after the concert and be ready to go tomorrow morning."

"Battle-stations?" Shirley looked at her children.

"Man the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!" Candy answered, and on that note, the crew in the living room disbanded for the next hour.

**December 26, 1970**

As planned, the two cars carrying the Partridges and Muirs reached the Schooner Bay Theater at exactly six-thirty. A long line had already formed around the building, and Candy could see her friends from school, and other kids she didn't recognize carrying signs like Partridges, Forever and I Love You, Keith! Clearly, the concert was the ONLY place to be that night. Candy, sitting between Carolyn and Shirley in the front seat of the station wagon, gulped a bit, and Carolyn could feel her little girl tense up.

"Maybe this is a big mistake," Candy said nervously. "Me performing, I mean. You guys could manage without me. I just know I'm going to get up there and look like a creep, or something. They might even boo me off the stage, or laugh."

"No one would EVER boo you off the stage!" Shirley said.

"No way, Candy!" said Keith, from the back seat. "Like Laurie said before, we've adopted you for the night. You're a Partridge, you're a member of this group and you're singing. Anyone starts anything, they have to answer to me!"

"Yeah," Danny added. "You have stage fright, that's all. Looks like you get the mom-type of it!"

"What's that mean?" Candy jittered, as the two cars circled around to the back of the theater at Shirley and Keith's request:

"If we go in the front way, I'll get mobbed."

"You remember, Candy," said Shirley. "I told you — that first morning we were here, in the kitchen."

"I . . . don't remember," said Candy, quietly. "I just remember bumping into Keith and . . ."

"Sure you do," said Shirley, gently. "It was later, when you were doing the dishes with Laurie, remember? I told you I was a nervous wreck the whole drive to Las Vegas, and getting ready, and the kids practically had to force me on stage and then I started singing and THEY froze? You get stage fright the same way I do. You do your shaking ahead of time. When you get on stage, you'll go like a pro!"

Carolyn stopped the car and opened the door. "Come on, sweetie," She gave Candy's hand a squeeze. "First things, first. Inside and back stage. You are going to be great."

"You're my mother, you have to tell me that," Candy protested.

"But I'm not, and I know you will be great, too!" Danny cut in. "Come on inside. You can't let everyone down now!"

"Please, Candy?" added Keith, giving the little girl a look that had won over many a girl's heart — not to mention at least another ten-thousand teen-aged girls all over the country.

"Okay . . ." Candy got out of the car, still dragging her feet. "I'll try! But if everyone laughs, or I throw up, right there on stage, don't say I didn't tell you!"

**xxxxxxxx**

Carolyn looked at her watch, nervously, as she, Jonathan, Martha and Tracy took their places in the audience. The concert was due to start in fifteen minutes and the theater was packed. Much to Shirley Partridge's surprise, Carolyn had insisted on sitting in an aisle seat — saying she got a little claustrophobic when she sat in the middle of a row. Of course, that was just an excuse. As long as she sat at the end of a row, Daniel could join her as planned, and stand next to her for the concert without appearing to anyone else. Martha and Jonathan were in on the fact that the Captain would be attending, as well as Tracy, who was still seeing the seaman, although she hadn't slipped to her family again and mentioned the spectre.

"I'll believe Candy Muir is performing with them when I see it." A child's voice came from the audience — two rows behind Carolyn.

"I don't believe it either," came another voice, this one also a child, but male. "I think it's all a rumor. "My mother says Mrs. Muir is showing off, just because the Partridge Family's bus happened to break down in front of her house."

Carolyn's cheeks flamed as she recognized the voices of Penelope Hassenhammer and Danny Shoemaker, Candy and Jonathan's two most un-favorite classmates.

"I still think if they needed a fill-in for that little girl my Danny should have been asked instead," Jane Shoemaker whispered a whisper to Gladys Hassenhammer, too loud not to be overheard. "After all, he's been taking lessons for two years, and . . ."

"And you, Madam, would try the patience of Job himself!" came a disembodied, very audible voice, unmistakably that of Daniel Gregg. "And Candace Muir has more talent in her little finger than your obnoxious little . . . your son has in his entire body, if he practiced until he . . ."

_"Daniel!"_ Carolyn projected desperately, willing him to hear her thoughts . . . could he? . . . _"Please, it's not worth it! We know the truth!"_

"Who said that?" came the nervous voice of Jane Shoemaker. "How dare you?"

"Be a lady, my dear Mrs. Shoemaker, even though it may be a novelty for you!" the seaman continued.

_"Daniel, PLEASE!"_ Carolyn projected again.

"For you, dear lady."

"Well, I never!" came Jane Shoemaker's voice again. "Who . . . where are you?" No answer came, of course, but the muttering behind the Muir family ceased.

Martha snorted and poked her employer in the ribs. "Wish I said that," she muttered. "I think he's shut her up, but good! Remind me to make him that cake he likes so much — the one with the chocolate and cinnamon." She chuckled. "I'd put brandy in the batter if he could tell ME how to make Jane Shoemaker shut up!"

The housekeeper felt a short, soft kiss on her cheek like the touch of a butterfly. "Thank you, dear lady!" the voice came in her ear. "You know, I'll hold you to that!" And the seaman appeared, standing beside Carolyn.

Even in the half-light of the theater, Carolyn could see the blush on Martha's cheeks. "I mean it, Captain Gregg," she said softly. "And if you're not careful, you may get Blueberry Slump in the next day or so, too!"

The sea captain leaned back over Carolyn to Martha and winked at her. "Anything prepared by you is a treat, my dear Martha!" he said, then moved back to his place in the aisle, and added to Carolyn in a low tone: "The show will start in just a few minutes, my dear. I know I shouldn't have checked — I should have just come here and behaved like any other member of the audience, but blast it, I am a spirit, and empowered with certain capabilities. I just had to go make sure Candy was all right. They are just about ready to start."

"How is she?" Carolyn murmured.

"Still a little green, and she has a death-grip on her tambourine, but Mrs. Partridge and Laurie told her that she can get her sea-legs a little at a time," said the seaman. "They said if she can't open her mouth, which she is having a great trouble doing at the moment, to just move her lips, don't worry about singing, and just play the tambourine, and work her way into it."

"Did YOU say anything to her?" Carolyn asked quietly.

"No, dear lady. I thought it best not to, in this case. I got the feeling, somehow, that she wouldn't believe a word I said."

"I could be back there and she wouldn't take it from me, either!" Carolyn chuckled. "I think this is one thing that Candy will have to work through herself."

"Fear not, my dear!" the seaman grinned and sat down on vacant air next to Carolyn. "She is YOUR daughter, and she has spunk. I have every faith that when that curtain opens she will perform like . . . what is that phrase? A trooper!"

"I hope so, Daniel!" Carolyn whispered again. "Just a hint of the teenage years to come, I suppose!" She started as she realized what the spirit was doing. "What ARE you sitting on!"

"Don't ask," he smiled. "Suffice to say, I didn't feel like standing all evening. I plan on enjoying myself as much as HUMANLY possible!" He cocked an ear toward the stage. "Shh . . . I believe they are about to begin."

The lights in the theater went down, and then, in Claymore Gregg's surprisingly impressive voice came: "LADIES' AND GENTLEMEN . . . The PARTRIDGE FAMILY!"

The group started singing, and Carolyn gripped Martha's right hand with her left, and the arm of her chair with her right, wishing as she never had before that her other hand could be encased in Daniel's. Sneaking a glance at the seaman 'seated' beside her, she grinned. The spirit was — as pale as a ghost! She looked at Candy, who was now singing clear and strong with the rest of the group, coincidentally, the girl's favorite song, _I Think I Love You._

Carolyn smiled as the Partridges continued. Candy was fine.

As the notes of the song faded away, the group bowed, and Shirley Partridge make her way to the front microphone where Keith was standing.

"Good evening!" She made another small bow. "Good evening! We're very happy to be here tonight!" The audience broke out into more wild applause. Holding up her hand to request silence, Shirley continued. "You may notice, my family looks slightly different tonight!" This comment was answered by more applause, and a cry that Carolyn recognized as Candy's volleyball buddy, Quentin.

"Way to go, Candy!" and the boy let off a loud whistle.

Shirley smiled again. "For those of you who haven't heard the story, we were driving to my parent's house in Philly after our Christmas concert tour when we had an accident — arriving late at night at Gull Cottage . . ." Shirley went on with the tale, of that first night, enthralling the audience. "And," she concluded, "since my daughter Tracy was unable to perform tonight, Candace . . ." she gestured back to Candy, and waited until Claymore danced a separate spotlight onto her, ". . . the daughter of one of my oldest and dearest friends, graciously stepped into her shoes. I can't begin to tell her how grateful we all are to her, to all of you for welcoming us so kindly, allowing us to perform, fixing our bus, and now . . ." she paused, "ON WITH THE SHOW!"

The familiar notes of _I Can Feel your Heartbeat _began, and by the time it was over, and the third song,_ Lay It On_ the Line started, it was hard to believe that Candy wasn't a Partridge. As Keith had said earlier evidence of Candy's natural talent was shining out for all of Schooner Bay to see.

Carolyn, who had had her chair in a death grip all her own, in spite of her brave words to her daughter earlier about relaxing and not being nervous, began to relax. Things were going beautifully. As entranced as she was with the show, however, she was curious — what of the Hassenhammers and Jane Shoemaker, and Danny? What sort of other nattering remarks would that unlikely bunch make? Her fears were set to rest when a certain slightly roguish sea captain leaned in and whispered:

"Oh, my dear! I wish you could see that harpy, Jane Shoemaker's face! Pity it's not St. Patrick's Day — she'd be in fine form for it!"

As "Show Ya" rang out, it would indeed appear that Candy was showing the two harpies what she was capable of.

Carolyn giggled. "And Mrs. Hassenhammer?" she whispered. "Is she . . .?"

"She's starting to 'groove to it,' as Candy says." he whispered. But Penelope and Danny look rather bleak."

"I can't believe how different their sound is — even from the way we heard them in the living room!" Martha murmured. "Let alone Candy's record on that old stereo of ours! Fantastic!"

"Guess Chris was right about the acoustics in here," Carolyn whispered back. "Maybe because it was a warehouse? You know, the walls, or floor, or something! What a great place to put on other musical shows — maybe we can book other acts here."

"May the powers spare us!" Daniel commented. "Claymore, Ed, Abner, Seth and Henry will decide to form their own rock group — with Claymore on lead . . . something!"

The Partridge Family performed one song after another, mostly songs that Carolyn and crew had heard the first night at Gull Cottage, ending with one of Tracy's favorites, _Bandala.._

As the last notes of _Bandala_ faded, the curtains closed and the house lights came up, signaling the end of the first half of the show. The applause was deafening, and for a moment, Carolyn wondered if the screaming audience was going to rush the stage. They didn't, but instead made their way out to the hall, where Mrs. Jenkins, Mrs. Dawes, and other ladies from the PTA were manning the refreshment table. Jonathan left to find his friends, also milling about, and then Mrs. Post approached her.

"What a DARLING little girl!" she gushed, gazing down at Tracy, and patted the child on the head. "Oh, dear! We're just so glad you and your family got stranded here!"

Martha snorted, and Carolyn heard the Captain's invisible chuckle at her elbow. "That's Mrs. Post!" and Carolyn watched him materialize — just to her. "Ever the soul of tact."

"She means well," Carolyn said softly. "Not everyone has your flair for words!"

"Thank you, my dear!" Daniel grinned and then moved aside as Doris Tuttle approached them.

"Tracy?" Doris Tuttle said softly. She gave the child a tender look. "Honey, I know you would rather be up on stage with your family tonight, but I just wanted to say thank you. Your family has helped make this a wonderful Christmas for all of Schooner Bay, and especially for our seamen's home."

"Thanks," said Tracy, simply. "You know . . ." she whispered confidentially to the older woman, "It's kinda fun! I've never got to see my family perform before 'cause I'm up there!"

"A charming philosophy, my dear!" The older woman answered, and gave her a grandmotherly hug. "I'm just so glad you are feeling better! The whole town heard about you feeling so poorly, and we felt terribly that we couldn't get out to Gull Cottage and help your mommy and Mrs. Muir nurse you."

"Heaven forbid!" The seaman rolled his eyes. "That would have been all we needed . . . a pack of well-meaning — " He broke off, seeing Carolyn's face. "Yes, my dear. I like Mrs. Tuttle, and yes, she has sincere heart, But really!" He shrugged. "Given a choice, I . . . well — " He broke off, deciding the discretion was the better part of valor. "I think that perhaps we should be getting back into the theater. The lights just flickered, which means the second half of the show should be starting in a few minutes."

"Or Claymore needs to get a little more electrical work done!" Carolyn chuckled, as she, Martha and Tracy made their way back up the aisle, passing Jane Shoemaker, who was stubbornly rooted to her chair, and Carolyn realized that the woman had stayed inside the theater for the entire intermission. Jonathan ran up, joining them.

Martha waited until they were seated before she whispered: "Well, guess we didn't make any points with that old battlea . . . that is I imagine Mrs. Shoemaker isn't pleased, but as she never is, there's really nothing to really worry about!" Carolyn laughed as the Captain appeared and 'sat' beside her.

The second half of the show opened with a Christmas medley similar to the one the group had practiced at Gull Cottage the day after they had arrived; _My Christmas Card to You_, the song Keith had written, was received well, but there were additional songs also — the Partridge versions of _Frosty the Snowman_, _Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Sleigh Ride_, and then, on a quieter note, _The Little Drummer Boy,_ which included a beautiful drum accompaniment by Chris, then Shirley taking the lead on _The Christmas Song _and again on _O Holy Night_. There were a few other tunes as the mood slowly shifted back to a lighter tone, with the group getting a few moans and a few laughs when they sang their more upbeat versions of _Winter Wonderland_, and _Let it Snow _before ending the Christmas set.

When the applause died down a bit, Shirley announced that the next group of songs would be ones from their new album, _Up To Date_, which was due to be recorded the following month. Their fans cheered at the thought that they were the 'premier audience,' and without preamble, Laurie started the beautiful keyboard intro of _I'll Meet You Halfway_. Carolyn remembered Laurie mentioning that the studio recording would include violins — something, of course, they couldn't do for the performance in Schooner Bay.

One tune blended into another and Carolyn watched her daughter perform as if she had been doing it all her life:

Next to Carolyn, the Captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It's amazing how truly lovely some of these tunes are," he whispered, in her ear, even though no one else could hear him. Carolyn could have sworn a few times during the evening that she could practically feel his warm breath. She could not know how he was thinking how closely the words of that last song mirrored his emotions. Until the Muirs barreled into his life, he'd felt low, and trapped. Now, because of them, of her, he was content to be on earth.

"Candy has been singing on all of them!" Carolyn murmured back to the seaman. "I sort of assumed she would do well on the songs from the first album, but she looks like she's having even more fun with the new ones. She did mention learning the song Keith finished writing on Christmas Day — I wonder when they are doing that one?" Carolyn turned back to the stage where the group was finishing the next song, _Somebody Wants to Love You._

Then, as if they had heard what she had said only a few moments before, the group pulled to a halt and Carolyn watched as Keith took his microphone from its stand. Rotating his shoulders slightly to remove the kinks, he stepped forward to the apron of the stage and motioned for the audience's attention.

"Thank you! Thank you, you've been a fabulous audience . . ." Here, there was a moan, most particularly from a group of girls stationed near front row center.

"No — Not yet!" one moaned. "It's not over yet, is it?" The teen idol smiled down at them from the stage, producing a small shriek from another girl, and Keith continued.

"Gull Cottage not only turned out to be our shelter in the storm, but also a special source of inspiration," Keith continued. "Once we arrived, and got settled and all, Carolyn Muir — " Keith motioned toward the general direction of Carolyn and her family. " — was gracious enough to let me wander around her house and work on a song I have had stuck in my head since we started driving toward my grandparent's house in Philly. Unfortunately, a tune was all I had . . . my lyrics muse simply wouldn't cooperate!" The young man smiled and paused for a moment.

"Then finally, thanks to Santa Claus, who made a special stop at Gull Cottage on Christmas Eve, I found my lyrics at last — inside my Christmas present, a hand-written poetry journal." Keith looked out at the Muirs and Martha in the audience. "I almost missed these lyrics all together," he added. "They were near the back of the book, after several blank pages. I don't know what you all will think when you hear them, but I find these words fresh and timeless — as though they could have been written only last year or last month, or yesterday. The author of these poems is unknown, because the poems are unsigned. I'm not sure quite why, but I like to think the words are by the man — legend, really, whose house we have been staying in."

Carolyn started and leaned toward the seaman next to her. "Daniel, did you . . ."

"In any case," Keith continued, "since the author is unknown, I credit the spirit of Captain Daniel Gregg for this song's creation, and I hope the Captain is happy with our 'collaboration'."Without further preamble, the lead singer of the Partridges stepped back to his place with his family, adjusted his guitar strap on his shoulder and soon the sweet strains of string, bass and keyboard came pouring out. Silently, the Captain agreed. Aye, if only he could speak those words of love, that WOULD indeed be the day.

A guitar bridge filled in a break in the lyrics and Carolyn turned to Daniel in astonishment. Did he really feel that they belonged together, like sand and sea, or the words and music? "Daniel, your song is . . ." she started, but stopped again as the seaman put his index finger a centimeter's distance from her lips, and Keith started the next lines, making each wonder if one day their love would not be forbidden, if they could ever speak of it.

The verse started to repeat and Carolyn spoke in low tones to the seafarer next to her. "Daniel . . ." she whispered. "You can't fool me! Not this time! You HAVE been writing again . . . that journal . . . the book you gave Keith . . . it was yours! You wrote the words to this song!"

"You are the writer, my dear, not I . . ." the seaman protested.

"In a pig's eye, my dear Captain!" she grinned.

"Well, perhaps I had something to do with it . . ." he shrugged, and his focus returned to the stage, but Carolyn's eyes were trained on the seaman.

_**Yes, if ever they could be together, that would be the day.**_

Schooner Bay Partridge Family aficionados talked about the concert . . . the night, the fun, the music . . . for years. After two more encores, the house lights were brought up again, and the group bowed. Shirley Partridge stepped forward, and above the deafening roar of applause and cheers, thanked the audience, and then Carolyn and her family — motioning for them to come up to the stage. After a few half-hearted protests, Jonathan, Martha, Carolyn and Tracy did just that. Pulling Candy forward from where she was standing by Laurie and Chris, Keith gave the girl a loving hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Carolyn grinned and snuck a look at Penelope Hassenhammer, who was looking, well, not much happier than Jane Shoemaker had looked earlier (according to Daniel). Candy took Keith's hug and very public kiss in stride, kissing the young man back, and then, as they all grasped hands, the Partridges and the Muirs took one more group bow.

**xxxxxxxx**

The rest of the evening passed in a surreal blur, yet at the same time, it still dragged for Carolyn. She was dying to ask the Captain more about Keith's new song, and just when he had written the beautiful words Keith had sung, but Daniel had disappeared before the reception — forcing her to wait until she and her family had finished the obligatory chit-chat and endless questions: . . . _What are the Partridges really like? Did they practice every night? Was it really true you didn't recognize them at first? When did you and Shirley Partridge go to school together, again? Do you have any pictures of the two of you? Are you going to visit them in California?_

It had been a wonderful, perfect, magical night — one that she wouldn't have missed for anything in the world, but her hand ached from all the enthusiastic shaking it had received, and she was getting more tired by the minute. Finally, however, the evening was over. Shirley had pleaded an early release, saying that Tracy needed her sleep, and the other Partridges and Muirs seemed ready to call it a day, too.

The drive home was quiet — Shirley driving the family's multi-colored bus that carried her brood and the musical instruments, and Carolyn bringing her crew home in the station wagon. She sighed as she pulled up in front of Gull Cottage. Daniel had not reappeared in the car for the two-mile drive home, and Carolyn wondered what had happened. She glanced toward the widow's-walk — no trace of him there, and she was more than a little anxious to speak with him.

"Olly, Olly oxen, free!" Shirley called, getting out of the bus. She watched her children descend the bus stairs and stand on the flagstone walk and looked at the stack of equipment with a tired smile. "Okay, guys. One more time. Let's get the instruments inside for the night. Keith? You think the amps and whatnot will be okay if they stay on the bus?"

Keith shook his head. "I'd rather not. But don't worry about it. We just have to get them off the bus, up the walk and parked in the foyer somewhere. Laurie, Danny and I can handle it. Chris should probably get inside, and ready for bed, and . . ." he nodded to the very sleepy looking little girl. "Tracy needs to get inside, too."

Shirley looked down at her daughter. "You probably have a point. The last thing she needs is to be standing around out here."

"I think Keith is right," Carolyn added, coming up and putting one arm around her friend and another on Tracy's shoulder. "Tracy's almost well. I'd hate to see her get sick again, now."

"I want to take her temperature, too," Shirley said. "She feels almost normal,"

"I can help with the instruments, Mom," said Candy, now out of the station wagon and heading toward the bus. "I'm part of the crew too. But Jonathan is tired. He and Chris should go on in."

Carolyn smiled at Candy's big-sisterly tone. "Thanks, sweetie." She turned to Jonathan who had, with Martha's help made his way, sleepily, out of the car. "Come on, Shirl. Let's get these three upstairs to bed." Gently, Carolyn guided her son and Chris up the walk and inside the front door of Gull Cottage, her friend following behind her with Tracy.

**xxxxxxxx**

Up in the master bedroom, Shirley regarded her little girl, now curled up on her cot. She checked the thermometer twice — carefully, Tracy looking at her all the while.

"Shirley?" Carolyn asked. "Well? What's the verdict?"

Her friend gave a deep sigh of relief. "Ninety-eight-point seven. Almost normal," she sighed. "Thank goodness." She headed toward the bedroom door. "I'll get her another couple of baby aspirin, if you don't mind, Carrie. Then I'll get her snuggled in, and we can call it a night." and the blonde disappeared out the door to the bathroom.

Daniel Gregg materialized, looking pleased at the news. "Tracy's fever is gone?" he inquired, looking first at Carolyn and then at the child . . . and then he peered closer at the child. She was obviously still awake, but had not acknowledged his presence. Quietly, the seaman waved a hand in front of the child's face. No response. He turned back toward Carolyn — a relieved, yet sad look on his handsome features, and he held a finger to his lips, warning her. "Shh, dear lady." She gave him an inquiring look. "Tracy is indeed well," he said softly. "She can't see me when I appear to you any more — her fever is truly gone." Carolyn started to speak, but again the seaman stopped her. "It's just as well, my dear. She's leaving tomorrow. We can't have her mother calling the doctor over a 'delusion' that actually existed for a time, now can we?"

"A very dear delusion . . ." Carolyn whispered, and as Shirley Partridge entered the bedroom again, the seaman slowly disappeared.

**December 27th 1970**

Although both sides of the 'family' hated to part, the time to do so had finally come. Carolyn watched as the Partridges and the Muirs, aided by Martha, started loading the bus full of instruments, luggage and newly acquired Christmas presents for the last time.

"I really think you ought to come out to California and see US next Christmas," Chris was saying to Jonathan. "We don't get snow, but we could have a lot of fun — and be warm, too!"

"It might be a gas," Jonathan grinned, grabbing another small suitcase. "But we'd have to come out earlier than Christmas. I wouldn't be away from Gull Cottage during the holidays for anything! We always have a great time here!"

Chris shrugged. "I guess you're right. I'd rather be at home for the holidays, too. It's been groovy staying here, but I wonder if Reuben is going to want us to tour every year? I'd hate to think about this stranded thing becoming a habit!" Together, the two boys headed back to the bus with another load.

"Aunt Carolyn, I really wish you'd give me that Claymore Gregg's number," Danny commented as he came out of the house, carrying Laurie's keyboard. "I just know I could get him to sell you Gull Cottage. I've been hearing something about this new thing in real estate — a rent to own/buyout option. You rent a house with a portion of your rental fee going toward a down payment every month, and then, when the owner and seller both agree it's a good time, you . . ."

"I'll think about it, Danny." Carolyn smiled. "I'd rather make a deal with Claymore outright, but he would still have to be willing to sell, and, as Gull Cottage is his legacy, so it may take me a while to talk him into the idea."

"I did NOT leave that tight-fisted fool Gull Cottage!" came the voice of Daniel Gregg. "How many times do I have to tell you that?" The spirit appeared, unseen, to all but Carolyn, and stood beside her. "And when you are ready, I guarantee you that one way or another I will MAKE Claymore sell it to you, or I will personally make his life miserable until the end of his days!"

"Still think you might get a better tax break if you could do it this new way," Danny protested. "I've been reading, and . . ."

"Later, dear brother," grinned Keith, coming up and giving Danny a playful punch on the arm. "As grandma says, you are missing another good chance to keep your mouth shut. Some people don't like to think about money morning, noon and night. Me? I'm the creative type."

"That's you," Danny snorted. "And it takes all kinds to make the world go round."

"Well, right now we need worker-bees to finish getting this bus loaded," Keith added. "Come on. Ever since I used my new poetry journal to finish that song we did last night, I've been unblocked, muse-wise. Can't wait to get moving on writing some more tunes. Mom's taking the first shift behind the wheel and she wants to get started."

Daniel Gregg's eyebrows lifted as he looked at the young man.

"Really?" Carolyn asked. "Other poetry?"

"Lots of it," Keith nodded, pulling out the book in his back pocket. "I really like this one that talks about how 'I've' been alone too long and I want to build a dream for you."

Carolyn looked at the Captain out of the corner of her eye. Was Daniel blushing? She watched the specter's brilliant blue eyes gaze at the sky, the bus, Gull Cottage . . . and finally turn back to hers, and she wondered if her cheeks were turning red.

"It sounds . . . like a beautiful start, Keith," the lady of Gull Cottage said softly. "I can't wait to hear it finished."

"I'll second that," the spirit echoed in her ear.

"Creativity later," Keith smiled. "Gotta finish here. Mom's still inside with Tracy."

"Anything wrong?" Carolyn asked.

"No — she's okay, I think, anyway. But she says she doesn't want to leave."

"Why not? I would think she would be glad to get started, finally going to see your grandparents and all," Carolyn wondered.

"It's because she says she hasn't seen her Captain yet," said Laurie, coming down the walk with Candy, both carrying speakers, and Laurie also a long cylindrical tube. "She keeps saying she needs to say goodbye to him."

"Girls," Danny commented, and went on toward the bus. Keith started back toward the house.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Laurie," said Candy, giving her mother a wink. "Lots of people have claimed to see Captain Gregg here. Maybe she did see him!"

"Wish I could have, then," Laurie sighed. "A couple of people at the reception asked me if I had met the ghost. You never said anything about him actually haunting here! Can you imagine living with someone like the Captain?" Carolyn watched as the spirit of Gull Cottage preened a bit. The teenager smiled. "Speaking of which, Aunt Carolyn — thanks for finding me this empty wrapping paper tube. It's perfect to keep my drawing in. My Captain should stay safe and dry until we get back to California."

"I never did get to see the end result," said Carolyn, anxious to keep the 'ghost conversation' to a minimum. "Can you take it out and show us?"

"Sure," said Laurie, removing the masking tape and then the cotton balls stuffed in one end of the tube. "Candy was right . . ." she looked at the younger girl and smiled. "As soon as I started thinking of him as real, he became dimensional — almost alive — like the little boy and the _Velveteen Rabbit_. Here . . ." and she uncurled the paper and held it out in front of the group.

"Laurie, that's really beautiful!" whispered Carolyn, as they looked at the drawing in front of them.

"I think it's almost better than my portrait over the mantle," the Captain commented, "I always did like pencil drawings and charcoals better than oils."

"Excellent," said Martha, who had come up behind them, unnoticed. "A lovely job, Laurie. I'd love to see that when it's all matted and framed and everything."

"I'm looking forward to showing it to Mrs. Crowley," Laurie added. "My art teacher. I've decided to make it my project for this road trip." The young woman looked a bit apologetic. "I'd offer it to you, Aunt Carolyn, but, well, you — you have the original."

"Uhm . . . original?" Carolyn asked, glancing at the Captain, still standing near her.

"You know," Laurie added, "The portrait!"

The seaman smiled broadly, Carolyn noticed, but turned as Shirley and Tracy came down the walk.

"Well, I better get moving," Laurie sighed, and she rolled up the drawing again carefully and pushed it back in its cardboard tube. "Let's hurry, Candy. One more trip after this and we should be just about done." And she and Candy headed toward the bus.

"Come on, sweetheart!" Shirley wheedled her younger daughter. "We need to get going, honey. We have a long way to go before tonight."

"But I can't find my Captain," Tracy said mournfully. "I can't find him anywhere!"

"He was a dream you had when you were sick, honey," Shirley soothed her. "I don't think . . ."

"He wasn't! He wasn't!" Tracy protested, "Mommy, he was real!"

"Tracy, imagination is a wonderful thing — and so are dreams, but only until they end."

"But, Mommy . . ."

"Honey, I'm glad you had your Captain to keep you company when you weren't feeling well, but you're better now."

"He wasn't a dream! He was real! He was!" The tears started sliding down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her mother's stomach. "Oh, please, can't we wait just a little longer? I know he'll come and say goodbye to me!"

"All set, Mom," Keith interrupted, coming back up the walk with his siblings, Candy and Jonathan. "Tracy still upset?"

Shirley nodded, looking first to her son, then Carolyn and Martha. "I had no idea leaving was going to make her so troubled." She shrugged. "Tracy has always been imaginative, but this is a little far out, even for her."

Carolyn looked at the Captain, helplessly, he looking back at her in the same fashion.

"Well, I want to give everyone a proper goodbye!" said Keith, giving first Martha then Carolyn a hug and a kiss. "You all have been terrific about everything, and don't worry!" he added, giving Jonathan a handshake and Candy a hug and a kiss as well, which made her blush like a rose. "We'll send you our new albums as they come out, and anytime you are in California, you HAVE to stay at our house!" Turning to his mother, he added. "The bus needs about five more minutes to finish warming up. Take your time, but not forever!"

As hugs and kisses were exchanged, the other Partridge children echoed Keith's sentiments, and they all climbed inside . . . leaving Shirley, Tracy and Carolyn in front of the stone gate near the back of the vehicle. Martha, Candy, Jonathan and Scruffy headed back toward the front porch.

"Honey . . ." Shirley turned to Tracy again. "Darling. It's time to get on the bus. Give your Aunt Carolyn a hug . . ."

Her daughter's lower lip quivered. "Bye, Aunt Carolyn," she added, her eyes clouding over again. "I had a fun time, even if I was sick!" She sniffed, giving Carolyn a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Tell the Captain I said 'bye' too, and tell him I know why he couldn't come see me." She looked sadder still. "He told me he was a secret. I just wish he . . ." giving Carolyn another squeeze, she broke away and headed for the bus — showing up seconds later at the back window, where she looked out — her eyes brimming with still-unshed tears.

"I hope Tracy gets over this," Shirley frowned. "She hasn't had an imaginary friend since she was three." She turned to Carolyn. "Carrie, what can I say? I'm so happy I've found you again, and this time I won't lose track of you. You've been great."

"No, YOU'VE been great, Carolyn laughed. "I'm sure we weren't in your plans!"

"One of the best wrong turns I ever made!" Shirley grinned, hugging her friend once more.

"Thanks for everything, Shirl, and remember, any time you're ever touring Maine again, we'd love to see you."

"Same here — please, maybe next year you can manage coming to California? I mean, if we're not touring again. If we do, we'll probably end up in a ghost town, or something!" She laughed as she headed up the bus stairs. "Don't forget us now! You and Martha should get your Christmas presents sometime next week!"

Carolyn looked toward the back of the bus, where Tracy was still staring out the window, and suddenly the Captain was standing beside her.

"Captain," she said, looking at Tracy's tear-streaked face. "I can't tell you what you should do . . ."

"I know, Carolyn," he sighed, "But . . ."

"Daniel, you can't let her leave like this — she thinks you've abandoned her."

"I know . . ." he sighed. "And if she were staying here, it might be different, but . . ."

"Oh, Daniel," Carolyn sniffed. "Just look at that face! You have GOT to say goodbye to her. Don't worry about Shirley and the others wondering or worrying. Tracy will be fine. She needs to see you, and you need to say goodbye to her, too."

He nodded. "You are right, my dear."

Quickly, the seaman disappeared and reappeared again, right next to the back of the bus where Tracy was, and Daniel Gregg watched as the little girl's face broke out in a sunburst smile upon seeing "her Captain" once more. Tracy started waving madly as, up front, Shirley shifted the bus into gear and started pulling slowly away. A lump came to his throat as he saw Tracy mouth _"Goodbye, Captain!" _and wave back to him until the bus was out of sight.

"Well, that's that," Carolyn said softly, making her way back up the flagstone walk. She sighed. It had been nice having an old friend to talk to. Except for Aggie, Paula, Betty, and Blair, (who barely counted) she hadn't seen any friends from her former life in Philadelphia in more than two years.

"That's that, indeed," said the Captain, appearing beside her as she made her way into the foyer and joined her family.

"I'm going to miss them," said Jonathan, reaching out to give his mother a hug. "It's been swell having them all stay here, and I'd like them even if they couldn't sing."

"Me too," Candy agreed. "I'm sorry it's all over. It's been fun singing and having a 'big sister' to share a room with, but you're okay, too," she added to her brother. "Sure going to be dull around here though. Hey — want to go upstairs and play Twister for a while?"

"Sure!" Jonathan agreed. "Then maybe later we can go sledding!" Together, brother and sister headed for Candy's room.

"Well, that's life," said Martha, wiping her hands on her apron. "Back to normal around here. You can't always live in the spotlight! Someone still has to do dishes and make beds!"

"I have some pressing work to get done this afternoon, Mrs. Muir," the Captain began, formally, but Carolyn detected a touch of wistfulness there. "I have been sadly neglecting my sea charts." Then in an even gruffer tone, he added. "It should be nice and quiet here now — no crowds, no music, no sick children . . ." and he disappeared.

Martha looked at her employer. "Back to those sea charts again! Ever wonder why he keeps revising those things? I mean, I don't see him going to sea any time soon! What's the rush? You know, I think the Partridges, Tracy especially, really got to that old sea dog. What do you think?"

"Maybe," Carolyn said quietly. "But I don't know how you would ever get him to admit it! You know Daniel Gregg!"

"Better and better all the time, Mrs. Muir, but not as well as you do, I don't think."

Carolyn blushed. "Well, I did have a head start on you, by a year!"

"Let's not forget an occasional afternoon of conversation and Madeira," Martha grinned. "If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen, making a grocery list. We're running low on lots of things, coffee for openers." With that, she headed toward the kitchen, leaving Carolyn alone in the foyer.

The phone rang then, but had stopped ringing before Carolyn could pick it up. Seconds later it rang again, and moments after that, Candy and Jonathan clattered down the stairs.

"Mom!" Candy's voice was breathless. "That was Linda — she's having the gang over — Amanda, Susan, Maggie, Debbie, Kathy — everyone, even Penelope. She says, please, I have to come. They want to see my new tambourine and hear about, well everything — you know! Can I go? Will you take me into town? Please?" Her face was shining with excitement.

"I thought you were going to play with Jonathan?" her mother asked.

"Oh, we can do that later!" Jonathan interrupted. "Kyle called — that was the SECOND time the phone rang. He and Conner are going ice skating at that new rink in Keystone and want me to come. If you can drop me at Kyle's house, his dad can take us there and bring me home. Please?"

Carolyn smiled at her offspring. "Sure, guys. Then I need to get back to reality and start on that article I couldn't get going on yesterday. Get your coats, I'll tell Martha goodbye, and we'll get moving."

**xxxxxxxx**

Night came once more to Gull Cottage. Candy and Jonathan had arrived home, later than usual, having been allowed to stay out to eat with their friends, but now they were safely tucked in bed. Carolyn and Martha had eaten a light omelet for dinner, and Daniel Gregg had appeared long enough to indulge in a cup of tea, but he had been quiet, almost moody, and had disappeared shortly afterwards, saying he had "other things" he needed to do. The women stayed up for a while, relaxing with coffee and the peace and quiet.

"You know," said Martha, pouring another cup. "I'm really going to miss that family."

"Me too," Carolyn said. "It was great seeing Shirley again, and we both had a chance to talk a few things through."

Martha lifted an eyebrow, and then lowered it again, deciding some questions were better left unasked. She shrugged. "Anyway, Gull Cottage has seemed so quiet tonight! Do you think the Captain is missing everyone running around his ship?"

"Home," Carolyn smiled. "Da. . . he's been calling it a home, lately. Yes. Actually, I think he will. I was a little worried when everyone first got here, but he warmed up to them all so quickly, even if he had to stay invisible, Tracy especially. I realized after they left that, chances are, he's never really gotten to know a little girl that age. Candy was older when we moved here, more aware, more mature. Tracy was less likely to challenge what shouldn't be happening, and, well, since she could see him, and didn't have a problem with it, he could talk to her, and she to him when he had to stay invisible to everyone else."

"I think that was the happiest thing of all," Martha smiled. "Tracy being able to see him, I mean! Did Captain Gregg ever really figure out why she could?"

Carolyn shook her head, and played idly with the cord on her bathrobe. "No — all we can assume is it had something to do with her being sick. I suppose we'll never really know, but then, the Captain told me some time ago that he didn't know why Jonathan could see him the first day we moved in here without him willing it either."

The housekeeper started. "I didn't realize that! I always assumed that the old goat showed himself to Jonathan, like he did to you and Candy and me!"

Carolyn shook her head. "No — Jonathan told me later, and the Captain backed him up. That first day he was watching us from the stairs as Claymore was giving us the downstairs tour, and Jonathan started upstairs and practically ran into him — of course you can't do that with a ghost, but anyway Captain Gregg was so startled, that he forgot to thunder just then, or do anything scary, and then Jonathan said "hi" to him, and what could he do after that? He wouldn't scare a child, not deliberately. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Martha grinned. "Maybe the Captain wanted to be seen, and didn't know he did, or maybe it has to do with how old a child is. Jonathan wasn't quite six when we moved in here. Perhaps, like in the Mary Poppins books, the age you are holds a mystic quality, and you lose that quality as you get older unless you are very, very special, like Mary was, or are encouraged to hang onto it — rather as we all have been able to because Captain Gregg exists here in this house."

"I like your approach, Martha," Carolyn smiled. "I thought that movie was great — was that in the movie? I don't remember it, except indirectly, maybe."

"More prevalent in the books," Martha grinned. "But then, Mary was grumpier in the books, too. Always reminded me a little of my Great Aunt Ethel. In the books, she loved the Banks children, all five of them, but she wouldn't say it in words, more in actions." The housekeeper yawned. "Well, it will be nice to have things back to normal for a few days before the kids go back to school."

"Agreed," her employer nodded, rubbed her eyes, and yawned, trying desperately to cover it. "Sorry, Martha. I guess I'm more tired than I thought I was."

"Me too," her friend nodded. "I think it's time to call it a night — how about you?"

"You don't have to say that twice!" Carolyn said, rising from her chair and starting to stack the cups and saucers they had been using on the tray.

"Now just stop that," Martha scolded, putting her hand on Carolyn's shoulder. "These can sit here until morning — they won't go anywhere."

"You sure?" Carolyn asked.

"Absolutely. They'll be gone by the time you wake up."

"Okay," Carolyn nodded, giving her friend a hug. "Goodnight, Martha. Thanks for everything." Together the two women turned off the lights — Martha heading for her room on the ground floor and Carolyn climbing the stairs to the master cabin.

**xxxxxxxx**

The Captain appeared as Carolyn came back into the master bedroom, after checking in on Candy and Jonathan. He sat at the desk and idly flipped through a stack of papers there.

"I heard your earlier comment, my dear."

Carolyn smiled. "Which earlier comment?"

He stroked his moustache. "About missing them. I shall miss them all. Very much."

"Tracy?" Her voice was curious.

"No — all of them. Mrs. Partridge, because I wish you did have a close female friend nearer by. It's obvious you miss that. There is Martha, of course, but that's a different sort of relationship. A friendship with someone like Shirley Partridge . . . well, it's not something that you have in Schooner Bay . . . not yet, and I cannot say for certain if you ever will. Small towns are like that, unfortunately." He shrugged. "As for Mrs. Partridge's offspring, they are a nice group of children and young adults. The nicest I have ever known, except for Candy and Jonathan, of course. And they have talent, but, as Candy says, they're not 'hung up' on themselves. I am looking forward to seeing how my . . . that new song does on the music charts."

"So you won't mind so much this time when Candy plays their new record incessantly?" Carolyn grinned.

"Of course not. I'm counting on it."

"What about Tracy, Daniel? You miss her. I know you do."

"Tracy?" His smile was wistful. "You're right of course. I will miss her the most of all because I got to know her the best, her being able to see me, and all. I had a grand time with her — telling stories, singing lullabies, and I think she did too. I missed seeing Candy at that age, you know. It was rather enjoyable having just a little taste of fatherhood . . . something that didn't happen in my lifetime. Candy and Jonathan are almost too old for goodnight stories and fairy tales and lullabies now. A few more years and they will be out on their own. I'm beginning to understand what some of my shipmates meant when they said having children and a family made time fly."

"You know, Daniel, the Candy and Jonathan DO think of you as a father . . . " Carolyn choked out the words as she came closer to the seaman.

"I know, my dear Carolyn," he said softly, and he rose and stood next to her — close enough to touch. "And every day I am more and more grateful to them, and to you, for that honor."

"We're blessed too, Captain." Her voice almost cracked as she looked back up at him. "I meant what I said in the kitchen the other night."

"Hmmm?"

"About how happy I am that I am here, in this house, with you and Martha and the children and Scruffy and how much I love it here, and I don't think anyone or anything could make me leave here, not even you. Coming to Gull Cottage was the smartest thing I have ever done." Again Carolyn was aware of the Captain's almost sapphire eyes gazing steadily into her green ones.

"Thank you, dear lady," he answered, his voice almost a whisper. Then the seaman pulled his eyes away from her and backed up, almost imperceptibly, and he smiled. "But I think you have forgotten, however, that the Christmas season isn't really over!"

"What do you mean, Daniel?"

"You've forgotten so soon? Little Christmas? On January sixth?" He grinned.

Her hand flew over her mouth as she gasped. "You're right! Epiphany! Little Christmas! I HAD forgotten!" She smiled. "I still have some shopping to do for you."

"I don't!" The seaman almost crowed, and looked extremely pleased with himself. "I've had your surprise figured out for more than a month . . ."

"I thought my beautiful jewelry box WAS my surprise," she said, puzzled. "Daniel, the music box — everything you have done for the last four days has been more — "

"Oh, it's not a THING . . ." He grinned like a little boy. ". . . Just a little surprise I've been working on!" and the seaman disappeared.

"Daniel!" she cried, "Daniel, you come back here!" Her only answer was a chuckle echoing in her ears. "Come on, I'll tell you what yours is going to be!"

"That would be too easy!" His rich voice echoed in her ears, and he laughed again.

"Don't laugh so loud! You'll wake up the children!" she said, frustrated.

"They can't hear me! But they can hear you! You are the one who needs to stop shouting!" and he laughed again, even louder than before.

"Daniel . . . It's still closer to Christmas than Little Christmas — we COULD do this now . . ." she wheedled.

"No we can't! You said you don't have MY present yet! Fair's fair!"

"Daniel . . ." she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

"I COULD give you a hint . . ." his voice came from very near, practically tickling her ear. "If you're determined to learn something . . ." He chuckled again, his laugh sending shivers down her spine.

"Yes, Daniel?"

"Well, I don't know . . ." he paused. ". . . I really shouldn't. I mean, the children should be allowed to hear this too . . ."

"DANIEL!" she sighed. "You're not being gentlemanly at all."

He materialized once again, shaking his head. "No, my dear. You are correct. I'm being unfair. One of things I always found the most difficult when I was alive . . . I'd find just the right gift for someone — for a birthday, for Christmas — my mother, my father, my aunt, my shipmates, a woman or two . . ." He paused, scratching his beard. "I always had the hardest time waiting until the proper day to give it to them." The seaman shrugged. "I'm sorry, dear lady. I won't tease you any more. Goodnight, Carolyn. I promise. No more talk of presents until January sixth." The seaman gave a short bow. "Until tomorrow, Madam . . ." And he disappeared.

"Daniel?" She whispered softly, this time remembering her sleeping children. "Daniel . . . You don't have to go yet. You can stay. We can just . . ." She stopped, realizing he was no longer in the room. "Oh, foo," she whispered. "I know you, Daniel Gregg, and nothing I can say tonight will sway you anyway!" She smiled. "But we'll just see what happens tomorrow!"

Carolyn slipped between the warm sheets — everything feeling oddly different with Shirley and Tracy not sharing the cabin with her. After a half an hour with her murder mystery, the lady of Gull Cottage dropped off into a sweet, sound sleep.

**xxxxxxxx**

Two hours later, the spirit of Gull Cottage appeared at the end of her bed, as he had on the very first night the family had stayed there, and many nights since, and gazed at the beautiful sleeping woman before him. He looked, satisfied, at the music box he had given her, sitting on her bedside table near the clock, and smiled, thinking about how happy she looked when she had received it.

"I have indeed met my match in you, my dear Carolyn," he whispered. "After waiting for you for so long, how could I have known what it would take to finally bring us together? How could I have known all it would take is a love so timeless it couldn't be measured by anything contrived by man, but something only God could know?" Softly, he whispered the words to a song, telling her that love was all he ever needed, though he didn't expect it. Yet, since she looked at him, that's all he wanted.

Daniel Gregg leaned over and kissed Carolyn gently on the lips, and watched her smile in her sleep. Out of instinct, she moved toward him slightly, then curled deeper under the covers. He thought about how grateful he was for the Christmas just past, and how eagerly he was anticipating his planned surprise on Little Christmas, just a few short days away, and all the Christmases, Little Christmases, and happy years to come.

Kissing her softly once more, he moved to the French windows and peered through the telescope at something that only his spectral eyes could see, then adjusted the curtains so the morning sun wouldn't shine in and awaken his lady. Then he dematerialized, reappearing on the widow's-walk to begin his night watch, and await the light of dawn — and a glorious new day.

Finis


End file.
